


Defiant Soul

by aleutianwarrior



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Original Female Character - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleutianwarrior/pseuds/aleutianwarrior
Summary: Join orphaned Sahalie as she is pulled into our beloved world and navigates Middle Earth. How will she react to meeting some familiar characters along the way? What role will she have to play in the coming war on darkness?*Slow build***Rating for later**





	1. In the Beginning

This is my first post on AO3, but not my first fanfiction post. That said, this is my first time writing in this fandom so I'm really excited about it and would welcome any feedback! I'll try to post once a week and I hope you all enjoy. Thank you!

* * *

 

The waves crash harshly against the cliff face as the tide rolls in. I breathe in the salty air as my hair whips around my face, feeling content and a sense of longing at once as I look to the west over the Pacific. Sighing, I turn and climb back in my car and drive the rest of the way to the trail head on lonely winding roads. When I pull into the parking lot half an hour later, there are only a few cars. A family takes their packs out of their trunk while their two small children run around the car, pulling a small smile from me.

I park on the far side away from the trail head, grab my packs and lock my car before making my way into the forest. I feel a weight lifting as the trees envelop me, despite my heavy load. With finals over, I am now the proud bearer of a Bachelor’s of Science in Cultural and Linguistic Anthropology. I’m not sure what the future holds for me, but I am glad that I have made it this far on my own, and I hope my parents would be proud, too.

I hike for a few hours, bypassing the designated camp ground and find a clearing about a mile off the trail. With practiced ease, I set up my tent and get settled in. As night approaches I strap my small knife to my ankle and wander out to gather firewood. My arms are full by the time I turn to head back to my clearing.

A branch snaps behind me and I turn my head, slowing my breathing and listening. I hear nothing else so I keep walking, keeping my steps light and my breaths slow. A moment later a dark-haired man in red and black flannel steps out from behind a tree in front of me and another comes out behind me. I tense, gripping the branches closer, reaching for a larger one within the stack. I turn to the side to keep both men in my sights.

“Hey, baby doll. Want some company?” the man in front of me asks. He’s more robust than the other, broader shoulders and more muscular.

“I’m good, thanks.” I step back, creating more distance between both strangers.

“Don’t be like that. We can have some fun,” the second answers. They step with me, strides longer, reducing the distance.

“I’d rather not.” I back up too far and hit a tree. When I sidestep the trunk, the first man lunges. I drop the majority of my firewood and back swing a branch at his head. The branch snaps on his head and dazes him. I turn to the other man who just stands there, smirking, and the other man lunges again. I block with my forearm and follow up with a left upper cut to his ribs. I use my smaller size and speed to get around him and jab at his kidneys in quick succession. He drops to his knees and I hit the pressure point in his neck to knock him unconscious.

“Well done, sweetheart,” the other man grins. “Now it’s my turn,” he taunts, pulling out a hunting knife from behind his back. My eyes widen a fraction.

He advances towards me. I briefly entertain running but then I run the risk of being literally stabbed in the back. I don’t have time to crouch to find another branch or retrieve my knife before he’s right in front of me. I dodge his stab and land a kick to his knee. It buckles beneath him but he stands seconds later. The next minutes pass in a blur of dodging metal and trying to land hits. I can tell that he is getting tired and so am I, which is probably why he slips past my blocks and his blade sinks into my side, above my left hip. I gasp and grip his shoulder before slamming my forehead against his nose. The knife slides from me as I push the disoriented man away and begin to run.

“You can run, sweetie, but I will find you,” he yells into the growing darkness. I try to keep pressure on the wound and create as much distance as I can, making my way back to my camp site.

I can feel myself losing too much blood and I need my first aid kit. I have yet to hear his footsteps and I don’t dare to look back lest I stumble and slow my already slow pace. My hands find the tree trunks as I go and I focus on getting from one to the next, pushing back the darkness threatening to consume me.

“This isn’t what we wanted. We just wanted to have a little bit of fun.” I hear him making his way towards me, not too quietly, some distance behind me and to the right. I almost shout for joy when I see my tent coming into view. When I reach it, I haphazardly open the front, reach inside for my light filled pack and keep moving, this time in the direction of the main camp ground. I hoist the bag onto one shoulder and open the pouch, feeling around for the bandages I know are there.

“Come out, come out, sweetheart. You can’t get too far, can you? Just give up.” I grit my teeth and keep going. I pull out a small package of bandages and rip it open with my teeth, stuffing the wrapping back inside. Pressing them under my bloodied hand, I reapply pressure. I falter as I do so.

I make it another few hundred meters or so before I falter, knees hitting the ground. I can tell that I’m on the hiking trail somewhere between my campsite and the camping grounds before a blanket of unconsciousness consumes me.

~***~

I wake briefly to horses whining and briefly skidding to a stop. I open my eyes to a white horse above me. Strong arms lift me and speak urgently in a language I don’t understand before we’re back on the horse.

“Hold on,” the melodic voice seems to say. I feel the horse take off at a gallop and I slip back into unconsciousness, cradled to a warm chest that envelops me in safety.


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post a second chapter early because the first was so short. I hope you enjoy and get a better idea of where this story is going :)

            The surface I lay on is soft, covered in a light fabric. My head is cradled by one of the nicest pillows I’ve ever used. I can feel the sun shining in from the window, which must be open because I can feel the breeze and hear a waterfall. A waterfall? I struggle to open my eyes to figure out where I am, because I am certainly not where I fell asleep. But I didn’t fall asleep. I was camping and I was attacked. When I manage to sit up, I groan in pain, falling back down and instantly remember all the details in my still hazy mind. I briefly wonder if this is all a dream.

            “Ah, you’re awake.” I lift my head up and lift myself onto my elbows to see a tall, thin man with long dark hair near the door on the other side of the room. “How are you feeling?”

            “Like I got stabbed,” I reply warily. The man gives a light-hearted laugh, skin crinkling into crow’s feet by his eyes.

            “I imagine you would,” he steps towards the bed with a handful of bandages and what look to be salves or herbs. “I am Elrond. This is my home. May I?” he asks, gesturing to the spot on the bed beside me. I nod my assent. The bed barely dips beneath his weight. “I’ll check to see how you’re healing, if that’s alright with you.” I feel at ease around him, so I give my assent once more, moving the light sheet away. Lifting the hem of my shirt, still bloodied, Elrond removes the soiled bandages.

            “Where am I?” I ask while I watch him work, his hands gentle.

            “Imladris. You’re healing well. As long as you don’t strain yourself too much, you should be fully healed in a few weeks. This wound was deep. A blade?” I nod.

            “Where is Imladris? I’ve never heard of it before.”

            “You might know it as Rivendell, home of the Elves.”

            “I’m sorry, Elves?” Elrond has an amused look on his face.  
            “You are not of our world, yet it seems the Valar have deemed it fit to bring you here. Only they know why. You must have many questions which I will do my best to answer, but I have a few first. Let’s start with your name.”

            “Sahalie.” I pull my shirt back down as Elrond stands to take the soiled bandages and unused salves to the other side of the room.

            “And how did you come by such a wound, Sahalie?” Elrond takes a seat beside my bed and helps me sit up completely with the pillow propped up behind me. He listens patiently as I recount my tale; his eyes seem to flash with concern.

            “How long was I asleep?” I ask when I finish.

            “Two days, as far as we can tell. You were found several leagues outside the city. Luckily for you, a group of riders were on their way here and brought you to me.” I remember the white horse and the strong arms, the melodic voice and the sense of peace and safety that carried me.

            “Are they still here: the ones who brought me here?” Elrond looks mildly surprised.

            “Yes, they will be here for another month at least.”

            “I’d like to thank them if I could.” Elrond smiles and rises.

            “Of course. I will have some fresh clothes and food brought for you, shall I?”

            “That would be wonderful, thank you. I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”

            “My dear, whatever reason you were brought here, I suspect there is a greater purpose. You seem to me like someone who has seen and endured many things in your short life. None who enter these walls will go without care as long as there is someone capable of aiding them.” With that, he takes his leave. He moves silently though his robes brush the stone floor.

            When I’m sure he’s gone, I move to swing my legs to the side of the bed so I face the window, the door at my back. I take a deep breath to get used to the tightness in my abdomen where the skin is stitching itself back together. My toes have just touched the floor when I feel the sense of peace wash over me.

            “Are you sure you should be doing that?” I turn my head to see a silver-blond haired man, presumably an Elf, standing in the doorway. He is lithe and stands with an easy grace, with piercing blue eyes. “Lord Elrond mentioned you were awake. We’ve brought your food.”

            “Oh, thank you. I just wanted to see out the window. I heard the waterfalls when I woke up, but I wasn’t sure if I could see them from here.” The blond man comes to my side while a few men follow behind, one of them bearing a tray of food. He places it on the table by the window.

            “I will help you or Lord Elrond may have my head for allowing his patient to hurt herself.” He takes one of my hands and wraps an arm around my shoulders, helping me to stand without putting strain on my wound.

            “I don’t need help,” I protest.

            “Humor me,” he smiles. Once I’m standing he holds me more gently, a safety net should I falter. We take the few steps to the window where I lean. He lets me go and I feel a slight sense of loss.

            “Seeing as I’ve been unconscious, this will sound strange, but have we met?” The man smirks, though not in a patronizing way, more like he is trying not to laugh.

            “Yes, briefly, though you were in and out of consciousness at the time. You were near death when we found you.” My eyes widen in realization.

            “Oh, it’s you.” I almost kick myself for not realizing sooner. “I wanted to thank you.” I make eye contact with the two other men, standing silently by the wall. “All of you. You saved my life.”

            “All we did was pick you up. Lord Elrond did the rest, and your own will to live. You’re much stronger than I anticipated.” I feel a swell of pride at that, though I’m not sure why.

            “I see you’ve met Prince Legolas,” Lord Elrond calls from the door. He sets a pile of clothes on the edge of my recently vacated bed.

            “Prince?” I ask in disbelief. The prince laughs in a tinkling, mesmerizing way. “I don’t – I’m sorry. I didn’t know. How should I -?”

            “It’s of no matter. It’s only a title. When you’re immortal, it carries next to no importance.”

            “Well then,” I look to Lord Elrond. “Can I get a book on all of this or something? I think I need to get caught up on all of this.”

            “I’ll have one brought for you, but first, you must eat.”

            I nod in agreement and use the windowsill as my rail the short distance to the table, brushing my fingertips on it. Prince Legolas walked on my other side, not touching, but knowing that should I falter, he would be there. Honestly, I feel ridiculous. I am an independent woman who doesn’t faint or swoon except through severe blood loss. I don’t need a rail or an Elf prince to make sure I keep my own two feet. When I sit, I look at the spread before me: fruits, breads, and cheeses of varying kinds. Prince Legolas sits beside me while Lord Elrond brings water from the dresser to the table before sitting himself down on my other side.

            I pick a strawberry while the two Elves watch. I feel slightly uncomfortable under their scrutiny. “Please tell me I’m not the only one eating.” Elrond smiles and chooses what looks to be a dragon fruit, indulging me. Satisfied, I begin to eat, mindful of my stomach as it has gone days without food and not wanting to be sick from the sudden intake.

            “Do you have any questions for me, other than requesting a book?” Elrond asks.

            “Where exactly are we? I’m obviously not where I’m from unless someone is playing an elaborate joke or I’m delirious, but where is Imladris?”

            “We are in Middle Earth, home of the Elves, Men, Dwarves, Ents, and the occasional Wizard. In more recent times, there are also dark creatures plaguing all corners of the land in varying degrees. It was lucky that Prince Legolas found you instead of one of these creatures, else we may not have been able to save you.”

            “What are Ents?”

            “They are the _Onodrim_ , shepherds of the trees. The Elves began to teach them to speak. They have been in Middle Earth for as long as the Elves,” Legolas answers.

            “Talking trees? I think I’d like to see that.” Legolas smiles, clearly pleased. I turn to him next. “Are you from Imladris?”

            “No, I come from Mirkwood, formerly called Greenwood the Great before the darkness started to creep in. My father is the ruler of the Woodland realm.”

            “Is there more than one?”

            “There are three Elven realms in Middle Earth: the Woodland realm, here in Imladris, and Lothloríen, home of the Lady of Light and her mate.” It was Elrond who answered this time. “Mirkwood is the only realm with a king.”

            “And you said being a prince wasn’t a big deal?” I ask. The prince in question just smiles, amused. We continue talking, both Elves answering my questions with patience, for what felt like hours until I have trouble containing my yawns.

            “I think that’s enough for now. You need your rest,” Lord Elrond insists.

            “I’m alright. I already slept for two days.” I realize that I probably sound like a petulant child but I hate feeling like an invalid. Despite my protest, I stand and make my way to my bed, feeling much better after eating. “Just a nap,” I mumble to myself, determined not to sleep the rest of the day and night.

            Lord Elrond and the two guards leave the room while Legolas takes the seat next me my bed. He says something to Lord Elrond which I don’t understand.

            “What language is that?” I turn to my right side.

            “Sindarian, one of the Elvish tongues.”

            “It’s beautiful. I studied languages in school. I find them fascinating.” I yawn again.

            “You should sleep. We can talk more when you wake up, if you like. I’d like to hear about your world.” When I nod he begins to sing, a lulling verse that makes my limbs heavy and I curl into my blanket even more and I’m soon asleep.


	3. Starlit Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I hope you all had a fun and safe weekend. There was an ice storm in my area, but luckily there was no major damage or accidents.
> 
> I hope you all have a fabulous week!

            When I wake next Legolas is gone and the sun is nearly there if the red hue streaming in the window is anything to go by. Getting out of bed, I collect the clothes now on the chair: grey leggings and a sky blue tunic with a white undershirt. Carefully pulling my shirt off, I change into the fresh clothes. They feel like some of the nicest clothes I’ve ever worn. Looking out the window, I finally see the waterfalls and the trees. It’s beautiful, and I want to see it closer. Barefooted, I make my way outside, taking an apple from the table with me.

            Walking through the halls, the lights are lit around the center of the building. Judging by the voices, I suspect that is where the dining hall is. My destination lies in the opposite direction. I munch contentedly on my apple, already feeling my strength coming back to me. I find the courtyard under my window easily and gaze out over the ledge to the waterfalls. I am happy to listen to the water cascade down in a steady rhythm, though it seems louder that it did, even this morning. When I finish my apple, I’m not sure where to put it so I hold onto it. There’s a large tree in the center of the courtyard and I go and sit among the roots, resting my back against the trunk. I’m still able to watch the waterfall with a beautiful view of the sky. I briefly wonder if the stars are as plentiful and beautiful here as they are in my version of Earth.

            _‘Hello, little one.’_ I sit up, expecting someone to be in the courtyard with me.

            “Hello?” When no one emerges I settle back into the trunk, keeping my eyes and ears trained for any movement.

            _‘I’m glad you’re awake, little one. We’ve all been worried since Greenleaf found you.’_ I look around but see no one, but the voice seems to be in my mind, so I respond in kind.

            “Greenleaf? Who are you?” The presence I can now feel seems amused.

            _‘The prince, little one. You are resting against me. I’ve never encountered one of your kind, which is uncommon as I have lived for many years beyond your years, I suspect.’_

            “Are you the tree?” I brush my hand against the roots.

            _‘Yes, young one.’_

            “What do you mean you’ve never encountered one of my kind? I am a human, last I checked.”

            _‘You are, but you don’t seem entirely human. That I can talk to you at all is evidence of that. Only Woodland Elves have this ability, other Elves to some extent, too, though less common.’_

            “How is that possible?”

            _‘I don’t know, little one, but it is a rare gift, indeed.’_ The voice pauses, letting me soak in the information I’ve been given. _‘Greenleaf,’_ it exclaims. I cover my ears for the ringing it leaves in my head. I turn to see the prince walking into the courtyard.

            “ _Mae govannen, mellon-nín_ ,” he greets aloud, quietly, stroking one of the branches near his head. “I see you snuck away. If Lord Elrond were to find you, you’d be confined to your room for a week. With a guard. I’ve had my fair share of experiences thus. Or he’ll give you a tea with sleeping herbs.”

            “So never accept a tea from him?” I laugh. “What does that mean, what you said?” The presence of the tree stays curled in my mind. I find it oddly comforting.

            “Well met, my friend. It’s a customary greeting.” He looks at me curiously, a tilt to his head. “You heard me?” I’m now confused.

            “Yes? Was I not supposed to?”

            “Normally Men would not hear me, as their ears are not as sensitive as an Elf.”

            “Well, I was having a nice conversation with my friend here, before you came along. Though they seem quite fond of you.”

            “She can hear you, _mellon-nín_?” he asks the tree.

            _‘Yes, Greenleaf.’_ The voice, which sounds more feminine, replies. Pleasure ripples through my mind. I can’t help my small smile in response.

            “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Legolas comes to sit by my side, resting against the trunk as well. He looks graceful, even in stillness. He moves the way any dancer would kill for.

            “Yes, well, apparently I don’t seem entirely human to our tree friend. I shouldn’t be able to hear her, but I can.”

            “Do trees not talk where you are from?” I laugh at the genuine innocence and curiosity I see in his face.

            “No, they don’t. And people don’t really care. It’s really a horrible place where people, in general, don’t really seem to care about the world. They care about getting ahead, getting rich, and not caring what they have to do to get there. Don’t get me wrong, there are some pretty amazing people who have an avid appreciation for nature, but it doesn’t seem to be the common practice of humans.”

            “You don’t seem to be fond of your own kind,” Legolas observes.

            “I never really felt like I fit in anywhere except with my parents. They made me feel like I had a place to be and I haven’t found a place like that – well, in a really long time.” I don’t particularly want to talk about my parents, not in this beautiful place. I feel that it will somehow tarnish it. “Being here, I feel so much more at ease than I did there.”

            “Rivendell has that effect on people. I, myself, enjoy coming here, though I don’t come often. When your home is being consumed by darkness and you’re a creature that thrives on light and goodness, it can be oppressive.”

            “It can be the same with people. If you are a naturally optimistic person, having a dark cloud overhead due to circumstances or people who are supposed to lift you up, it can dim your light until you are as dark and hopeless as them.” I look out over the waterfalls again. The tree presence brushes against me with comfort, not offering an opinion but there if I need.

            “Your light is still bright as the sun, if not hidden by the clouds.” We stay in companionable silence until the stars fill the sky. Looking out, I try to recognize any of them by the constellations I grew up learning. To my surprise, they’re all the same. In this whole new world, I have to admit that it’s good to have a small comfort of home.

            “Did you happen to see a bag of mine when you found me?” I ask, breaking the silence.

            “Yes, I believe Lord Elrond had it stored until you were better.”

            “You know, it’s strange. I am in a completely different world and yet, the stars are the same here as the ones I learned when I was little. My dad taught me to identify the constellations and my mom told me the stories. We went camping all the time because it was one of the only times I ever felt at peace. I was too restless in the cities – like I didn’t belong there.”

            “What kind of stories did your mother teach you?” Before answering I stand and move out from the shelter of the trees to see better which constellations are clear tonight. Face to the sky I turn until I spot Ursa Major and not too far away, Ursa Minor.

            “Here,” I motion for the prince to join me. Pointing out the group of stars as best I can, Legolas easily finds them as I describe what they are supposed to look like. “The larger of the two is called Ursa Major, the Great Bear. She wasn’t always a bear. A long time ago, she was a beautiful human woman; she was so beautiful, in fact, that the great god Zeus coveted her. His wife, Hera, was a jealous woman. She appeared to the woman and turned her into a bear.

            ‘Let’s see if he loves you now,’ she said before leaving her alone in the forest.

            “The woman was fully aware, even in her animal state. When Hera turned her into a bear, she left behind her three-year-old son. Many years later, the boy became a man, a great hunter living alone in his childhood home with the faint hope that his mother might return. Little did he know, she was never far away, a silent watcher as he grew up. One day while he was hunting, she wandered too close. Her son began to hunt her, but who was she to deny her son anything? So she waits for him. When he is within range, he pulls his bow from his back. Before he can loose his arrow, Zeus, who still favored the woman, intervened. He pulls the two into the sky where they have remained in the stars ever since.”

            By the end of my story we are sitting on the stone barrier, looking at the stars and envisioning the tale. When I finish, I look down at the waterfalls, now illuminated by the bright moon. “Thank you,” Legolas says quietly after a time. I turn to look at him, his bright blue eyes already on me. I nod in acknowledgement. He stands, offering his hand. “Come. We best get you back before Lord Elrond comes looking for you.” I take his proffered hand which he tucks into his elbow and escorts me back to my room where he bids me good night with a bow.


	4. Curiouser and Curiouser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand enter in some familiar faces!

            A week passes in a blur, my strength coming back quickly as I heal with a swiftness closer to an Elf, or half-Elf, than a Man, according to Lord Elrond. The fact that I am not of this world yet possess qualities of one of them is a conundrum, even to one as old as he, so he says. He comes in the morning to see how I’m healing and I’m left alone for the majority of the day, which I use to explore the beauty of Rivendell, from the vast library to the base of the waterfalls. On occasion, Legolas will accompany me on my walks through the trees but he has other duties as an emissary for his father and their kin.

            I found the library a few days ago, which is where I’m currently sitting in a window seat that looks out over the front gate. I have a book of the history of Middle Earth in my lap. When I hear the commotion of horse hooves galloping down the stone path and Elves alerting each other, I look up and out the window to see a woman on a white horse come through the gate with a small child in front of her.

            “ _Ada_ ,” she cries. Lord Elrond is there almost immediately with two others, identical twins from the looks of it, behind him and a stretcher between them. Elrond takes the child gently from her and places him on the stretcher and rushing to the infirmary with the grace I’ve come to associate with the Elves.

            Curious, I set my book aside and make my way back in the direction of the infirmary. When I get closer, there is a blur of motion as the Elves move in and out of the room the child now occupies. Now in the doorway, trying to stay out of the way, I call out, “Can I help?”

            Lord Elrond looks up. “You wish to help?” I nod. “Come stand here. I’ll call you if I need you.” He gestures to the wall next to the headboard where I go to stand with my back against the wall, taking everything in. Looking at the child, I realize he’s not a child at all. His face holds too much wisdom and passing of time. When his eyes open, they are covered with an unnatural white film, irises turning pale silver while he looks at Elrond who is now standing over him, speaking in the Elvish language which I learned is called Sindarin. I watch as the peace seems to come over the small person and he falls into a deep sleep, breaths evening out and the tension leaves his body.

            “Help me remove his cloak and shirt. We need to wash and bind his wound.” I move to comply, gently lifting the shoulders of the patient to aid in the removal of the clothing.

            “What is he?” I ask. Lord Elrond looks up at me when I continue. “He’s not an Elf, and he doesn’t look like any Man from my world,” I explain.

            “He’s a Hobbit, a Halfling. His companions will not be far behind him.”

            “Companions?”

            “Three more Hobbits and a Man.”

            “Why are they coming?” I ask. “Why was he attacked?” I set the Halfling back down gently.

            “These are uncertain times Sahalie. The world is changing. In time, the world may be covered in darkness. But for now, we guard and cherish the light in our lives. It is never to be taken for granted, even for one of the Eldar.”

            “How do the years not blur together?”

            “They can, if we allow them to. Some do, or they do not notice the passing of time. For some, the years take their toll until they hear the sea calling them to Valinor where we can live in peace, a place for only the Eldar.” I had read some of the stories of Valinor, the land across the sea. It sounded a little like Heaven for the Christians to me. We did not speak after that except for Elrond to guide my hands as we wrapped the small torso of the Hobbit.

            “What is his name?” I ask when we’re finished.

            “Frodo.” I nod. I preferred to have a name to call him.

 

            Some hours later, after I’ve settled myself into my new guest room, having graduated from the infirmary, it’s time for dinner. Legolas knocks on my door to accompany me as he usually does, especially when we haven’t seen each other for most of the day. When I open the door, he seems surprised. I tug self-consciously at the hem of my gown, a gift from Lord Elrond to celebrate my recovery. It’s a blood red gown in the style traditional to the Elves, including the flowing sleeves and the too-long hem. Up to now I’ve been recycling the clothes in my pack, the few that there were.

            “Shall we?” he asks, recovering quickly. He offers his arm to escort me down. I walk barefoot beneath the gown as the slippers were too slick for my comfort.

            The banquet hall is lively, as it normally is at the evening meal. Lord Elrond comes to greet us when we enter.

            “You look lovely, my dear.”

            “Thank you. And thank you for the dress. I was running out of fresh clothes.”

            “It was my pleasure. We are all pleased to see you recovered.”

            “Thanks to you,” I smile.

            “And your own will to live,” Legolas adds.

            “Why wouldn’t I want to live when a place like this exists?” Elrond smiles indulgently and leads us to our seats.

            We ate and drank merrily, though most of the Elves stared at me when I reached for a second cup of wine. I became slightly self-conscious. Legolas leaned over to me, clearly amused.

            “This is Elvish wine. It’s more potent than wine consumed by Men or Dwarves. They stare because you are human and show no signs of drunkenness aside from the slight color in your cheeks.” I set the goblet down carefully.

            “So if I were normal, I’d be drunk on the floor?”

            “No, I wouldn’t let you be on the floor, but you would be significantly intoxicated.”

            “Perhaps I shouldn’t drink another, just in case,” I laugh. “Who knows, maybe it will catch up with me.”

            “That might be wise,” he laughs as well, a tinkling sound I’ve grown accustomed to hearing. When the music changes to a more upbeat melody he offers me his hand. “Care to dance?” I look at him skeptically for a moment.

            “You know what? Why not?” I place my hand in his and he leads me to the dance floor, a few couples following us.

            When the music starts it’s a lively tune. I’ve never been much of a dancer, save for dancing on my own with music blaring in my apartment during finals week. But as Legolas begins to lead, I follow instinctively as if it’s the most natural thing I could do.

            “You move well,” he comments with a smile. “Do you dance like this in your home?” My mind flickers over all the dances that I know, and this dance doesn’t match any of them, though it seems to mimic several ballroom dances that have long gone out of style.

            “Not exactly. But there are some older dances that are similar.” Somehow I know that if I were to switch partners, I would not be dancing as well. Since the day we met, I have felt connected to the Woodland prince in a way I’ve never felt connected to anyone.

 

            We danced and drank well into the night. Legolas delivered me safely back to my rooms before departing for his own. I change out of my gown, laying it gently over a chair in the corner before pulling on a nightgown that had been left. It was a sheer emerald, meant to be lightweight without being transparent, fitting the overall impression of modesty I’ve come to see in the Elves. I smile as the material sways over my calves when I walk, feeling like silk. I settle into my new bed and sink into the pillows with a sigh of contentment.

            And then I hear a cry. I’m out of bed and racing down the hall before the short cry has stopped. I’m in the infirmary, in the doorway to Frodo’s room. He’s on his bed looking peaceful but for the deep furrow in his brow betraying his discomfort, whether from the wound or his dreams I’m not positive. I round his bed to sit on his right side, pulling him up carefully as to not disturb his shoulder and half cradle him, brushing his shaggy hair off his face.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream  
I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam  
And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem  
But if I know you, I know what you'll do  
You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

            I start to sing softly and then trail off, humming the rest of the song, just brushing Frodo’s hair back, continuing until he falls into an easier sleep. I set him back down, moving to the chair next to the bed, never stopping my improvised lullaby. When I look up, I see Lord Elrond standing in the doorway, silently observing. I cease my humming and move to stand. He shakes his head with a smile, motioning for me to remain seated.

            “You are good with him. Did you have your own children?” he asks, coming over to check on Frodo’s healing shoulder.

            “No, I didn’t. I’d just finished my schooling. I hoped to one day have my own, but we’ll see now.”

            “Is there someone waiting for you in your homeland?” I look at Elrond, but he’s not looking at me. I suspect his question is out of mild curiosity and concern, a paternal care.

            “No, I didn’t.” I look down at Frodo, watching as Elrond’s hands moved carefully over his body, checking that he is healing properly. He doesn’t touch. Elrond explained earlier that Elves have a sort of light within themselves that makes their healing practices more potent and effective.

            “He’s healing well. He could awaken at any time, whenever his body deems it right to. His companions should arrive the day after next.” He looks up and looks at me curiously. “What made you come in here?”

             “I heard a cry and I was here. I don’t know how I knew it came from Frodo, though.”

            “Interesting.” Elrond straightens and turns to leave. “Good night, Sahalie. Sleep well.”

            “Wait,” I call softly. He turns. “Why is it interesting?” He looks at me thoughtfully for a moment or two.

            “Because no cry came from this room and yet you came, he in distress. I came because I heard you.”


	5. A Day of Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! This has probably been my favorite to write so far. I hope you enjoy!

            When morning came, I’d barely slept, though I felt rested, taking comfort in the wisp of the trees chattering and the singing of the Elves. I sit up from my relaxed position in the chair beside Frodo’s bed. I brush his hair back from his eyes once more before setting off for my room, the morning light peaking over the far side of the valley. Closing my door behind me, I see that Lord Elrond once again had clothes laid out for me, this time clothes that match my usual attire, but still in a similar style of the Elves. Dark grey trousers with matching boots and a royal blue tunic. The fabric is fine and the boots sturdy. I feel more myself in them than I did in the gown which is a relief.

            I meander down to the kitchen, which I’d found in my wandering, and greet the woman preparing breakfast. She offers me a smile as well as a bread roll and apple which I take gladly and go to sit under the tree I’d befriended when I first arrived.

            _‘Hello, little one,’_ she greets me while I settle in.

            “ _Good morning,_ ” I reply, having learned to speak with her silently, though I must have contact with some part of her.

            _‘You had a beautiful song. May I hear it again some time?’_

            “ _My song?_ ”

            _‘The one you sang to the Halfling.’_

            “ _Of course,_ ” I smile. “ _It’s a favorite of mine._ ” I start eating my apple, taking in the view before me. We’re quiet for a time, just enjoying each other’s presence, she wrapped around my mind like a mother’s hug. When I finish my apple, I set it beside me and split the roll in half.

            _‘How is the Halfling?’_

            “ _Lord Elrond says that he’ll recover. He has companions coming. What can you tell me of the darkness he was talking about?_ ” A ripple of sadness swept through me from my companion and I received no answer for some time.

            _‘There is a darkness in the East which is spreading its poison to the West. We have been touched little here in the Valley, but Greenleaf’s home has been harmed. He is a great warrior, defeating the darkness that threatens to claim his forest. He has a light within him that even the worst places would not be able to extinguish.’_

            I finish my bread roll and suspect that Frodo will need to be tended to soon, so I stand to depart, offering my thanks and a promise to return later. I take the stairs to the infirmary quickly, eager to check on Frodo, though I left him not so long ago. After Lord Elrond’s confession last night, I feel a certain protectiveness of him, like I’d expect to feel for a younger brother. Walking down the hall, I see a small figure with gray curly hair at the doorway of Frodo’s room. I hear Lord Elrond within the room, speaking quietly to the figure at the threshold.

            “Thank you,” he mutters, before turning to retreat down the hall, brushing by me. He offers a kind smile and continues on his way.

            Stepping lightly into Frodo’s room, Lord Elrond looks up from his redressing of Frodo’s shoulder. “Can I help?”

            “I’m finished here. There’s no need. I suspect your presence here helped tremendously through the night.” His eyes twinkle with mirth.

            “I just didn’t want to leave him alone.” Elrond pulls the loose tunic closed and ties it at Frodo’s right side. “Who was the man who was here?”

            “Bilbo, Frodo’s uncle. He’s been here for years. His old age finally caught up to him.”

            “How old is he?” Elrond looks surprised and amused at once. “I’m sorry, that was rude,” I blush.

            “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He turned one-hundred and eleven shortly before he arrived. Seventeen years have passed since then.”

            “He’s – really? He can’t be that old,” I sputter, completely thrown.

            “Most Hobbits don’t live as long as Bilbo, but there are exceptions as well as extenuating circumstances.” Nodding in acceptance of this information, I move further into the room. There is more color in the Halfling’s cheeks than was present yesterday when he was brought it, and even since this morning when I left him.

            “He looks better,” I observe aloud.

            “Yes. Hobbits are resilient creatures.” I can feel the eyes of the older Elf on me as I observe the Hobbit. “Would you still like to learn more of our healing practices?”

            “I would love to,” I beam, looking up.

            “Come along then.” Without another word, we walk out of the room and into a larger office type room in the infirmary wing where we spend the better part of the morning going over herbs, bandaging techniques, and various other subjects. I strive to keep up, amazed that I absorb the information with ease, as memorization was never one of my strong suits in school.

            The sun is high in the sky when my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since early in the morning, just after dawn. I look up sheepishly from my piles of herbs at Lord Elrond and the twins I’d seen yesterday, who turn out to be his sons, Elladan and Elrohir. Their sensitive ears are sure to have heard the growling. My suspicions are proven when I see the mischievous twins hiding smirks, and failing.

            “Shall we stop for lunch?” Elrond saves me by offering. I nod, leaving my piles at his behest. The elder Elf stays behind to finish his bandage weaving, sending us ahead. The twins lead the way, asking me questions about where I came from. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect them to be flirting with me. I’d observed them at dinner with the women present, always trying to make them blush.

            “Elladan, Elrohir. Not pestering your father’s guest, are you?” Legolas calls from an adjacent hallway. The twins’ eyes twinkle.

            “Not at all,” the one on my right answers.

            “We just wanted to get to know her better,” the other continues.

            “Yes, we’ve just spent a lovely morning with her, haven’t we?” They wrap their arms around my shoulders and waist.

            “And I smell like herbs for my troubles.” I elbow them lightly in the stomach to release me. There is an expression somewhere between amusement and something else on the prince’s face. I go to stand closer to him, out of reach of the twins. “Now, I’m hungry, so if you’ll excuse me.” Turning on my heel, I make my way down the stairs to the dining hall where food has been set out in a buffet style. Filling my plate, I go to sit on one the the window sills, leg dangling on the outside, the other curled in front of me, holding my plate.

            Soon after, amidst the boisterous laughter of the twins, Legolas mirrors my position across from me, a smile on his face.

            “Mae govannen,” he greets.

            “Mae govannen.” The words spill out before I think on it. I’ve never responded thus but in that moment, it felt right to do so. I can tell that I’ve shocked the Wood-Elf but his smile only grows.

            “So, you spent your morning with the twins?” I swallow the strawberry I’d just taken a bite of.

            “Yes, and Lord Elrond. We were in the infirmary. He was teaching me some Elvish healing. I’ve never used or even heard of half the herbs that you have here. I doubt most of them even exist where I’m from.”

            “You have a great teacher. Lord Elrond is one of the best healers I’ve ever met.”

            “He’s very patient.”

            “I would think he’s learned patience over the years. Especially with these two for his sons.” He gestures to the twins across the hall in good-natured teasing.

            “Hey, watching it princeling,” one of them cries. We look at each other and laugh heartily. My abs begin to hurt and I touch my side where a scar has already formed, which feels slightly uncomfortable, giving me the urge to scratch it as all healing wounds do. The feeling fades moments later but my mirth remains. Legolas and I finish our meal, just enjoying the sunlight and each other’s company.

            “Would you like to come to the archery range with me?” he asks when I stand, leaving my now empty plate on the ledge. It bothers me that we leave them for the servants to come gather. When I look into his face, I see the unbridled joy dancing across his elegant features. It’s contagious.

            “Of course.” I’ve never seen archery up close but I’ve always been fascinated by it.

 

            I sit on the sidelines while Legolas restrings his bow with practiced ease and pulls his quiver overhead. The arena is empty, save for the Elves gathering around to watch the Woodland Prince. He seems to take no notice. He tests the bowstring, makes a few adjustments, tests it again, and is satisfied. He lines up in front of the first target, nocks an arrow and lets it fly. A second later, it hits dead center with a thud. He repeats this exercise, walking down the line of targets, each arrow finding its mark. Everyone claps and cheers when he finishes the end.

            “Legolas is known as one of the best archers in recorded history.” I turn to see the twins standing behind me.

            “And of course, all the _elleths_ fawn over him for it.” Legolas goes to collect his arrows and I think I see a hint of pink on his cheeks, though it may just be the sun. When he approaches, his arrows are safely stored in his quiver once more and the rest of the Elves gathered go back to their tasks.

            “Could you teach me?” I ask before he has a chance to sit beside me.

            “It would be my pleasure.”

            “I hope you do a better job with her than poor Estel,” one of the twins laughs behind me.

            “Good luck,” the other whispers in my ear before leaving. Legolas scowls at their retreating backs. When they’ve gone, Legolas looks back to me.

            “Let’s get you a bow then and we’ll get started.” He smiles then leads me to the armory. He has me hold my arms out to the side to judge my arm span before selecting a suitable bow, grabs more arrows and leads me back to the target range.

            We spend the rest of the afternoon thus, my arms, shoulders, back and hands all aching from the strain of the new form of exertion. I spent most of my teen years rock climbing, both indoor and outdoor so I have some endurance built up but this is definitely a different type of strain. Regardless, Legolas is surprised by my progress in just a few hours, though I still have a long way to go. I manage to get most of the arrows on the target but many still land in the trees beyond or the dirt before it. Finally, the sun begins to set and I can barely pull back the bow string. I’ve already gone far longer than Legolas suggested, but I assured him that I would be fine.

            “If your wound reopens, Lord Elrond will box my ears, you know?”

            “It won’t reopen. It’s already a scar. The only discomforts I have now are my aching muscles and my hungry stomach.” He laughs and helps me gather up all the practice arrows. “Can we practice more tomorrow?” He nods and leads me back into the Last Homely House to wash up.


	6. Mithrandir

            I spend the night again with Frodo, massaging my shoulders and drinking a soothing green tea from the kitchen. He sleeps peacefully aside from the occasional furrowing of his brows which I smooth away with a soft touch and hummed tune. I set aside my tea cup and watch out the window – the cool breeze picking up from the cascading waterfalls. The moonlight shines down on the courtyard below. I hear some singing from the Elves elsewhere in Rivendell. I’ve learned that they require little sleep, something that I would have killed for in college.

            “Good evening,” a rumbling voice calls softly from the doorway. I turn my head, placing a protective hand on the leg of my self-appointed charge.

            “Hello,” I respond, taking in the tired looking form of a grey haired man in grey robes.

            “Lord Elrond tells me you’ve been quite a help with caring for young Mr. Baggins.” He doesn’t move from the doorway but looks at me with wise eyes, not unlike the eyes of the Elves.

            “Lord Elrond has been a great teacher.” I tilt my head. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

            “Forgive me. I’m a friend of Lord Elrond. My name is Gandalf.”

            “Gandalf the Grey?” I ask, the name coming to mind from the texts I’ve read. “The Elves call you Mithrandir?”

            “The grey pilgrim, yes. My, you are as wise as Lord Elrond said. You seem to have taken in all the information presented to you. I must say, I was surprised to hear that of a human, especially in so short a time.” I feel myself blush a little.

            “Well, I’ve also been talking with Lord Elrond’s sons and Legolas. They’ve had plenty of stories to share with me. I think they were all trying to out-do each other, if I’m being honest.” Gandalf laughs.

            “I’m sure they are. Would you like to get some rest? I will sit with Frodo, if you wish.”

            “Only if it’s not troublesome. I don’t mind staying with him. I don’t know how long you’ve been traveling if you’d like to get some sleep.”

            “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of rest. It seems it may be your turn.”

            “If you insist. I’ll come back to check on him in the morning,” I smile.

            “It was a pleasure meeting you.” He leaves his statement hanging.

            “I’m sorry, I’m Sahalie.”

            “Sahalie,” he nods. “Have a pleasant evening,” he offers a kind smile, not unlike what I would expect from a grandfather who is fond of their grandchild.

            “Good night,” I offer as I trade my seat for his place at the door.

            Leaving Frodo’s room with one more backward glance to see the revealed wizard settle into my vacated chair, I make my way out to the courtyard, my mind too awake to sleep, though my body is tired. I settle against my tree and let my mind be filled with the senses of the forest surrounding Rivendell. My eyes close and I feel wrapped in a warm blanket, more at ease than I have felt in a long time. My body seems to fall in a state of restful stillness while I’m still conscious, comfortable against my tree.

            “I thought I might find you here.” My eyes crack open to see Legolas standing before me, an amused smile on his face.

            “There’s not many places I would be,” I point out. “Come, join me.”

            Legolas folds gracefully to the ground, facing me. He observes me with a well-trained eye, seeming to look for something. “How are you feeling?”

            “I feel fine, why?”

            “It’s never good to over work yourself, even if you’ve had decades or centuries of practice. It has been many a year since I have trained with a human; sometimes I forget that you may be more fragile than an Elf.”

            “Fragile? I may not be up to the sturdiness of the Elves, but I think we’ve established that I might not be completely human either.” He raises a brow in response, to which I sigh. “My hands and shoulders are a little sore, but nothing I can’t stretch out. Happy?”

            “No, but it’s a start. Now move forward if you will.” I look at him skeptically.

            “Why?”

            “As your archery teacher, I’m requesting you move forward.”

            “But I’m comfortable.” The idea of leaving the support of my tree friend is very disappointing.

            “Sahalie. Move forward. You won’t regret it,” he bribes.

            “Fine,” I grumble, shifting away from the tree while he stands. A moment later, he’s seated behind me. A second after that, his hands are upon my shoulders, searching for the knots and sore muscles with practiced ease. I arch away from him when he hits a particularly sore spot. I’m positive he can hear the thundering of my heart while he works.

            “How long will you be in Rivendell?” I ask to break the silence and give my mind something to focus on other than the warmth of his hands and how much I don’t want them to stop.

            “That will depend on how long it takes Frodo to recover. He has an important message to relate to us all before I can return to my home.” I get the sense that he’s holding back.

            “What will you do there? Besides being a prince. What does an Elvish Prince do?” He chuckles behind me, working the knots gathered beneath my shoulder blades. I nearly moan in pleasure.

            “When I’m not sitting in on delegations with my father, I’m usually patrolling and trying to eradicate the darkness threatening Greenwood. Spiders and orcs mostly.”

            “Do you have a hobby? Archery doesn’t count.”

            “I’ll occasionally read, but I don’t often have the time.”  
            “I can understand that.” We lapse into a comfortable silence, Legolas finishing his massage soon after. I roll my shoulders back and sigh in contentment, considering feigning hurt somewhere in my neck so he’d start again but I resist the urge in favor of settling my heart. “Thank you.”

            “My pleasure.” I hear the smile in his voice as he settles down next to me, resting his head against the tree trunk, eyes glazing as he becomes consumed by his own thoughts while I scoot back to retake my lounging position against my friend.

_‘Estel, Estel,’_ my tree friend cries some time later, jubilant. I look around, trying to see what may have caused the sudden outburst. The presence in my mind is full of joy, so much so I can’t help but feel joy myself, despite my feelings of confusion.

            “Estel? What is ‘Estel’?” Legolas laughs at my reaction. The word is familiar from the banter of the twins yesterday when I asked the Wood-elf to teach me archery.

            “Estel is Lord Elrond’s foster son. He must have entered the Valley.”  
            “Oh. You taught him archery too?”

            “Yes. I stayed often while he was a boy at the behest of Lord Elrond. My father sought to keep me from harm’s way as much as possible and so sent me.”

            “Is he like the twins?”

            “He has his moments, especially when he was young. I would help him with his retaliation against them but he’s become much more serious as he entered your adulthood.”

            “He’s human?” I ask, surprised.

            “Of a sort, yes. He is one of the Dúnedain. They are race of Man blessed with long life, though not so long as an Elf.”

            “What is your father like?” The Elf’s eye slides to look at me, a brow raised.

            “So full of questions tonight.” He sighs. “My father is my father. He is cold without being stone, affectionate, though not to the level Lord Elrond shows his children. He is a great leader and has been so for thousands of years, long before I was born. He tends to keep within the Greenwood unless a dire need should call him out. He is more concerned with the welfare of his people than the fate of the rest of the Free Peoples. Given the loss our people have suffered, I can’t say I fault him for it, but I can’t live in the same manner. All life, Elf or Man, is precious and worth protecting.”

            “Maybe I’ll meet him someday.”

            “Perhaps, if Gandalf doesn’t find a way to send you home.” My head whips around to look at him, nearly popping with the motion.

            “What are you talking about?” Panic ripples through my chest at the thought of returning home. Of leaving the Elves and the trees. The general beauty, despite knowing of the darkness that threatens to overtake this world.

            “If you wanted to return to your home, Gandalf may know a way to help you.” I nod, withdrawing. “But if you wanted to stay,” he trails off. I smile slightly. “What about your parents?” he asks finally, moving away from one unpleasant topic and stumbling into another unknowingly.

            “They were kind and supportive. Gave me everything I ever needed.” My eyes focus on the waterfall beyond the short stone wall; how the leaves move in the breeze. The quiet chatter of the trees thrums through me as they keep track of Estel’s progress.

            “You speak with great sorrow in your heart.”

            “They died when I was nine. I didn’t have any family left so I was sent to foster homes. Some good, others not as much. Some of them couldn’t accept that I was different. They couldn’t tell me exactly what made them feel that way, but it created tension and I would be shipped off somewhere else. I finally settled with a family when I was about fifteen and was there for a few years. My foster father was an ex-Marine, a warrior so to speak. He had three boys and so he taught me to defend myself. Hand-to-hand combat techniques so I could get out of bad situations. It’s what made it possible for you to find me. If he hadn’t taught me, I’d have been dead in the middle of the forest and no one would have ever known.”

            Legolas leans closer to me, our shoulders now touching, and rests a comforting hand on my knee. “He sounds like a great man.”

            “He is,” I smile. I listen more closely to the tree-chatter that has become increasingly more difficult to ignore. “I think Estel is almost at the gates.”

            “I think you’re right.” He stands fluidly and offers a hand to me. “Shall we go meet him?” I take his hand and join him. He doesn’t let go as we walk, a silent comfort in the aftermath of our emotional conversation. I find that I don’t mind the small sense of peace he extends in the simple gesture. I squeeze his hand in thanks, releasing it when we come to stand next to Lord Elrond and his children, though I remain close to his warmth and light.


	7. Familiar Faces

            We wait for a short while before we can hear the clicking of horse shoes on the cobblestone outside the gates of the Last Homely House. Closing my eyes, I listen more closely and discern the patter of several pairs of bare feet and the sure, steady stride of one pair of leather clad feet. I smile when I listen in on the chatter of the approaching hobbits as they awe over the beauty of the Valley.

            “They sound like a lively bunch,” I whisper to Legolas.

            “Indeed,” he replies. “We shall see, won’t we? If they are as tired as I suspect them to be, it will be interesting to see them when they’re well fed and rested.” I laugh, imagining them to have the energy of toddlers, running around with boundless energy before crashing when it comes time to eat or sleep.

            “Shall we put the twins in charge of their care?” I glance at the twins on the other side of Elrond as I make my suggestion. They lean back and raise an eyebrow each, in perfect sync.

            “I’m certain that they are capable of entertaining themselves. Whomever is nearest them will care for them should they need anything, understood?” Elrond commands, leaving no room for argument.

            “Yes sir,” I find myself mumbling with the rest as a Man emerges from the shadows, three hobbits following behind. One of them holds the reins to a weary, but sturdy looking pony.

            “Estel, welcome home,” Elrond greets, stepping forward to embrace his foster son who looks a little worse for wear.

            “ _Mae govannen, Ada_. It is good to be home.” Letting go of his father, he is embraced by his siblings with cheers of joy. “It is good to see you arrived safely, sister,” he continues when he embraces Arwen.

            “When can we see Mr. Frodo?” the hobbit leading the pony asks, edging forward.

            “He’s resting now, but after you’ve cleaned up and gotten settled, I don’t see why you can’t see him for a time, as long as you don’t wake him.” Elrond sweeps his hand towards the staircase to the bedrooms. “When you’ve washed up, I’m sure Sahalie wouldn’t mind taking you down to the infirmary.” He looks to me, reading my heart with a smile.

            “Yes, of course,” I nod in agreement.

            “ _Ai_ , Legolas,” Estel cries. “It is good to see you again, my friend.” The hobbits are led away by Lord Elrond, a stable hand coming for the pony to be put to rest for the night. I stand by Legolas as the Man approaches. Embracing each other, they leave an arm extended on opposing shoulders.

            “And you.”

            “When did you arrive?”

            “Ten days past. My father had some news to share with Lord Elrond. Sméagol has escaped, not from negligence but from kindness taken advantage of, I fear. _Goheno nin_ , Estel.”

            “For kindness? There is no shame in that nor a need for forgiveness.” His gaze falls to me. “And who might this be?”

            “Sahalie, sir,” I bow in the traditional Elvish fashion.

            “Found an elleth to put up with you at last, have you?” he teases Legolas. I blush at the insinuation, though I can’t help but feel a small swell of pride and curiosity. “I am Estel, as I’m known here. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sahalie.”

            “A pleasure,” I respond, adopting his more formal style of speech.

            “The pleasure is mine. Tell me, how did you meet our dear Legolas?”

            “He saved my life and brought me here.”

            “I see. May I ask what happened?” There is genuine curiosity and concern in his voice and body language.

            “I was attacked by two men. I barely escaped and later passed out from blood loss. Legolas found me and brought me to Lord Elrond.”

            “A wise choice. You seem to be quite recovered.”

            “I am. I’ve been up and around for the better part of a week. I’ve been spending my time reading and learning from Lord Elrond. He agreed to teach me more about your medicine after Lady Arwen brought Frodo. It’s fascinating. Just today Legolas agreed to teach me archery.”

            “You certainly have kept busy,” he laughs. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to check on Frodo, bathe, and sleep. It was wonderful to meet you, Sahalie. We’ll talk again soon.” Estel bows to us both and wanders away to the infirmary with ease.

            “Come, we should see if the hobbits have settled in. They’ll be anxious to be reunited with their companion.” I laugh.

            “I’m sure they sped through getting settled. They’re probably twiddling their thumbs or wandering the halls now.”

            “It’s very possible. Hobbits are fascinating creatures. I’ve never met one, until now, but I’ve heard stories from Estel.”

            “What kinds of stories?”

            “Mostly about their love for food. He once witnessed a man proposing to a woman and became distracted by a passing cake.”

            “That’s horrible,” I cry, trying to stifle my laugh. “What happened?”

            “She went to ask for two pieces of the cake, came back, offered him a slice and accepted his proposal. I believe she smashed his face into his frosting for getting distracted during an important moment, understanding his love for food or not.”

            “That’s quite the story,” I laugh.

            “Get a move on. We’re going to see Mister Frodo,” one of the hobbits calls. The voice carries through the halls long before Legolas and I reach them. I smile at the impatience in the voice.

            “We are coming Sam. We don’t even know where to go. We have to wait like the Elf said,” another voice answers. I chuckle and see the ghost of a smile trying to peek out on the Mirkwood Prince’s face.

            We round the corner to see one of the hobbits, presumably Sam, standing in the hallway at the door jamb looking in. His posture mirrors his impatience, foot tapping before he finally steps inside to help his companions. When we reach the guest room that the hobbits now occupy, I lean against the wall just inside the room, none of the hobbits marking my presence. Legolas remains in the shadows behind me.

            “That ‘Elf’ is called Lord Elrond.” I school my features into a serious expression. Three wide-eyed hobbits look to me in horror.

            “He meant no disrespect, ma’am, honest,” the hobbit from the hall exclaims. At his expression, I lose my resolve and laugh merrily.

            “No harm done. Are you Sam?” I ask.

            “I am, my Lady.”

            “I am no lady, Master Sam.”

            “I’m just a gardener ma’am.” He shuffles his feet in embarrassment, dropping his gaze to the carpet.

            “I’ve always loved gardening, though I find I can’t keep many of the plants alive. I think I choose the wrong plants for the wrong climate.”

            “That can be easily remedied,” Sam comments, face brightening.

            I lead the hobbits down the hall, following the moonlight to the infirmary. They are quiet except for the shuffling of feet and gasps of wonderment. They travelled far from home so I don’t blame them: I reacted similarly when I arrived. Legolas follows behind silently, though I feel his presence, watching the child-sized beings with care. We reach the infirmary shortly, Lord Elrond checking the bandages and Gandalf nowhere in sight. I stop the hobbits before they can enter the room.

            “Lord Elrond? I’ve brought Frodo’s companions. May I bring them in?”

            “Yes, thank you Sahalie.” The Elf looks up from his task of reapplying a salve. “Quietly, if you please.”

            I turn my head back around to face the visitors. “Come on then, quietly. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. He shouldn’t be disturbed.” They all nod, faces solemn and curious. Stepping aside, they file in and surround the bed awkwardly, clearly not sure where to stand to be out of the way of Lord Elrond.

            “Is he going to make it?” Sam asks, the most vocal around us.

            “Yes, he will. He was brought to us without much time to spare. A day later and I fear he would have been lost to us. The _athelas_ did great good in slowing the poison.”

            “And to think we call it a weed,” he remarks, disbelief coloring his tone.

            Elrond finishes tending to Frodo and steps aside to wash his hands in the water basin. I take up the chair at the head of the bed while the rest of the hobbits crowd closer still. Legolas takes up a perch on the windowsill. We all watch as Frodo’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. He seems more relaxed now that he’s surrounded by his loved ones. I look up when I hear leather-clad feet near the door and see Estel enter a few moments later.

            “How is he?” he asks Elrond in hushed tones.

            “The _athelas_ you applied saved him from darkness. He is healing normally, but I fear he will bear the scar for the rest of his life.” Estel’s shoulders loosen in relief. When he feels his eyes on them, he looks up and I look away, feeling guilty about eavesdropping. “If you don’t mind, we should let Frodo rest, and all of you should rest as well. There is time enough for you to see him on the ‘morrow. Now, if you please, I will escort you back to your rooms,” Elrond addresses the hobbits. They all seem to yawn and nod their heads in response, though their eyes leave their friend with a great deal of reluctance.

            “I will come find you if he wakes up in the night. I promise,” I assure them. They look to Estel, as if they wanted to be sure I could be trusted. He gives them a nod and gentle smile.

            “I don’t mind sleeping here, honest,” Sam protests, stifling a yawn.

            “Sam,” I catch his attention. “Go. Sleep in a bed. You need it. He will be fine and you can come see him in the morning.”

            “Alright. But first thing,” he stresses.

            “When the sun rises,” I nod. He nods and goes with Elrond with one last look at Frodo. When they’ve gone Estel enters the room to stand nearer to Frodo’s bed.

“He has a strong soul.”

            “Yes, he does,” I smiled down at him. “And you saved him?”

            “No one deserves the fate he would have suffered had I not. If there was one thing in my life I’d done right, it would be giving him his best chance to live.”

            “How noble of you.” I take in the stance and tone of the man in front of me, coming to the conclusion that he bears the weight of the world on his shoulders and yet remains gentle and humble. “You grew up here?”

            “Yes, I did,” he replies, steel eyes holding mine. “My mother brought me here when my father died. Not many years later, she passed as well and Lord Elrond raised me as one of his own.”

            “And you got into trouble like one of his own,” Legolas chimes behind me. Estel looks over my shoulder with a playful glare.

            “I seem to remember not being alone in that trouble.”

            “Do you know how many lectures I received on your behalf when I returned home? It was not befitting a Prince of the Woodland Realm to behave as would a common elfling.” The prince in question raised himself up to a properly straightened stance, nose in the air, and stern drawl, except for the smile breaking through at the end.

            “I’m very sure your father has never forgiven me for any of that either,” Estel laughs. I join in, imagining as smaller version of the man with Legolas getting into toddler-fashioned mischief. Frodo stirs in his sleep.

            “Hush,” I caution. “We’re going to wake him.” The laughter ceases immediately and Estel moves to sit beside Legolas on the moon lit windowsill.


	8. Unfinished Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry I'm late on my update. This chapter was really hard for me to write, and I'm still not sure I'm entirely happy with it. Let me know what you think!

            Estel enters the room to stand nearer to Frodo’s bed. “He has a strong soul.”

            “Yes, he does,” I smiled down at him. “And you saved him?”

            “No one deserves the fate he would have suffered had I not. If there was one thing in my life I’d done right, it would be giving him his best chance to live.”

            “How noble of you.” I take in the stance and tone of the man in front of me, coming to the conclusion that he bears the weight of the world on his shoulders and yet remains gentle and humble. “You grew up here?”

            “Yes, I did,” he replies, steel eyes holding mine. “My mother brought me here when my father died. Not many years later, she passed as well and Lord Elrond raised me as one of his own.”

            “And you got into trouble like one of his own,” Legolas chimes behind me. Estel looks over my shoulder with a playful glare.

            “I seem to remember not being alone in that trouble.”

            “Do you know how many lectures I received on your behalf when I returned home? It was not befitting a Prince of the Woodland Realm to behave as would a common elfling.” The prince in question raised himself up to a properly straightened stance, nose in the air, and stern drawl, except for the smile breaking through at the end.

            “I’m very sure your father has never forgiven me for any of that either,” Estel laughs. I join in, imagining a smaller version of the man with Legolas getting into toddler-fashioned mischief. Frodo stirs in his sleep.

            “Hush,” I caution. “We’re going to wake him.” The laughter ceases immediately and Estel moves to sit beside Legolas on the moon lit windowsill.

            They talk together quietly and I tune out their words, though I let their tones lull me into a relaxed state. I try to imagine a young Estel and Legolas as he is today playing together; Legolas teaching him archery with immense patience. I find it very hard to picture this serious man as a small, laughing, light-hearted child, which in and of itself brings a smile to my face.

Eventually, their voices lull me into a comfortable, floating state right on the edge of sleep where I stay until the morning light streams in behind me. I open my eyes to find that the duo has left and a blanket covers me to my shoulders. Rising, I check on Frodo: remove his bandages, apply healing salve, and secure fresh ones. He is healing well, but I fear he will scar based on the angry coloring of the wound. It looks very unlike a typical knife wound, at the very least different from how mine healed, but I try to not compare how I heal to the normal anymore because there is clearly something out of the ordinary with my situation. It doesn’t help for me to linger on it, just take it in stride.

As I finish tucking the end of the new bandage into one of the folds, I feel the bright presence of Legolas behind me, and the shy presence of another. I turn to face the pair. “Good morning,” I greet cheerfully, walking to the wash basin with the soiled bandages and salve.

“ _Mae govannen_ , Sahalie. I’ve brought a guest for Frodo.”

“Good morning, Sam,” I smile at the hobbit. “Did you sleep alright?” I ask.

“Yes, miss. I reckon I’ve never slept better.”

“Glad to hear it. I’m surprised you didn’t sleep longer after being on the road.”

“I wanted to check on Mister Frodo. I thought it best he wasn’t alone, in case he wakes up.”

“I sleep here most nights. Not to worry, Sam. You can sit with him now, if you like. I’ve just given him fresh bandages, so he’ll be fine for a few hours. I don’t expect him to wake up anytime soon. He’s been through a lot; his body needs the rest.”

“I’d like to stay all the same, if that’s alright.”

“Of course you can. I’ll be around if you need me. Would you like something to eat? I can bring you something,” I offer, remembering Legolas’ story about the hobbits’ love for food.

“That would be great, thank you.” He approaches the chair on the other side of the bed and I take his place at the door.

“I’ll be back soon.” When Legolas and I reached the banquet hall, I take one of the larger plates and pile it with a wide range of fruits and vegetables.

“Do Elves ever have meat?” I ask.

“Not usually, no. It’s possible there may be some available if large delegations of Men or Dwarves are our guests, but Elves don’t eat meat. We see life as sacred and as such, don’t take life except in time of war as a necessity.”

“I see. In my world we would probably call you a vegetarian or a vegan, depending on if you eat cheese or not,” I laugh.

“What are you?” he asks, raising a curious brow.

“An omnivore: someone who eats meat, fruit and vegetables. A vegan doesn’t eat meat or consume any other animal products, like dairy. Do cows exist here?”

“Describe them? We may call them by a different name.”

“Oh, well, they’re about as wide as a horse, I suppose. They have shorter necks, broad head. The ones that produce milk that we drink are usually black and white. Horns on their heads.” I keep listing various traits that I can think of, hoping to spark some kind of recognition. “They eat grass. Live in open pastures?”

“We don’t have anything like that in Mirkwood,” he finally responds.

“I was kind of getting that,” I laugh. “You have cheese, though, right?”

“Yes.”

“Cheese is made with milk, but it could be cow’s milk or a goat. I suppose you must have an equivalent?”

“I see. I think I’d like to see your land some day.” I finish piling food for Sam. I feel a slight ache in my heart at his words.

“I think my land would hurt you.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s not a kind place.”

“You think my land is kind? The halfling’s injury is proof enough that it is not. You’ve been sheltered here in Imladris. I’ve told you of the darkness lurking here. Our lands may not be kind, but they do make up a part of us; they shape our lives by laying choices before our feet. It is up to us to bring the light back.” A dark look crosses his eyes followed swiftly by determination. “If you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Lord Elrond. Enjoy your day, Sahalie.” The Mirkwood Prince turns on his toe and is gone a moment later on silent steps. I’m left staring at the spot he vacated.

“Don’t worry too much about him,” a gravelly voice sounds behind me. I jump slightly and turn.

“Gandalf.”

“Good morning, Sahalie. Taking care of the hobbits, I see?” He nods to the forgotten plate in my hands.

“Um, Sam hasn’t eaten and he’s with Frodo so I thought I’d bring him some food.” I glance distractedly at my plate. “What do you mean to not worry about him? He seemed almost angry with me.”

“My dear, Legolas is young amongst the Elves but he still has many years behind him. He has watched the destruction of his home coming but has always had a lightness about him that many of his kin have lost. He has hope but his heart is still troubled at times by the weight of his station as his father withdraws further from the wide world. He’ll come to his senses before the day is up, I’m sure. He’s too fond of you to ever be angry, I think.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’ve lived many lifetimes of Men, even to the point where I’ve lived longer than our Elven Prince,” he winks.

“So why was he upset?”

“He doesn’t want to see you lose hope. I believe it to be his greatest fear: should the hope of the world extinguish, the light of life will go with it, leaving us in darkness.”

“Oh,” I mutter, feeling slightly foolish. “I guess it would be hard to see your home that way. He’s always so bright and happy, like it’s never affected him. He hides it so well.”

“He allows his hope to outweigh his grief.”

 

Gandalf’s words linger as I make my way back to the infirmary with Sam’s food. When I reach the doorway, Sam is deep in the land of exhausted slumber, sprawled in the chair next to the bed. The sight of his messy hair and gaping mouth brings a smile to my lips. Walking silently, I place the food on the table for easy access when Sam awakens.

I set out to find Legolas, not quite sure where to start or even what I want to say. It occurs to me that I don’t know how long his meeting with Lord Elrond would be. Was it just a quick meeting, a drawn out one, or an excuse to gracefully and politely leave our conversation? I wander the halls and make my way to my tree friend.

 _‘Hello, little one,”_ she brushes against my mind.

“Hello. I have a favor to ask. I’m looking for Legolas. Do you know where he is?”

 _‘He’s by the dirt field, little one,’_ she responds after a moment. I could feel the hum of her conversations through the network.

“The archery field,” I translate to myself. “Thank you.” I have the urge to hug the tree when a thought occurs to me. “What do I call you? Do the Elves have a name for you?”

_‘Few of the Elves can speak as we do.’_

“Can I give you a name to go by?” I ask, feeling a little strange about wanting to give a tree a name, but “strange” has been the theme of my life of late.

 _‘If you like,’_ she replies, a ripple of pleasure and amusement flowing between us.

“I’ll let you know when I come up with something,” I grin. “Thank you for your help.”

_‘Good luck, little one.’_

 

I make my way to the practice fields, rehearsing some phrases as they come to mind, trying to find a good fit. I have the feeling of going to the principal’s office in my gut. I take a deep breath and round the last corner to find Legolas sitting cross-legged against a post with his bow in hand and polishing rag beside him. I make my way over.

“May I sit with you?” Without looking up, he nods his assent, and continues unstringing his bow. I sit watching him for a few minutes, his long fingers gliding gracefully with practiced ease. “I’m sorry.” I see his brows furrow slightly. “I do understand that this place isn’t a kind suns-and-roses paradise and even though I’m actively helping care for someone with a brutal wound, I do forget because this place," I gesture to the trees and Homely House, “this place has offered me the most peace I have felt in what seems like a lifetime. I know I’m an infant in comparison to you, and I’ve seen a lot less destruction of my physical home, but I have lost a lot in my life, too. I just don’t have your light, as much as I would like to.”

Finally he looks up. “Would you like to learn to care for your bow?”

I look at him, mind temporarily frozen. “Sure?”

“Go grab your training bow,” he nods to the weapon’s alcove behind him. I stand from my place and find the bow I practiced with before taking my place across from him once more. We sit there until the sun is high in the sky, going over anything to do with caring for, repairing, protecting, and crafting a bow. Though Legolas remains focused in his teaching, I can tell that he has a whole other conversation going on inside his own mind. I don’t pry, letting him work it out. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.


	9. Moonlit Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! For a long time it just sat there, not quite sure where it was going to go. I hope it's worth the wait!

            We stay outside long enough that the sun reaches its peak. Silence, save for the symphony of nature, resides over us for much of the time, except for when Legolas gave some instruction. I hoped that we would settle into our usual rhythm but I felt like I was sitting under a cloud of awkwardness for one while my companion seemed disturbingly at ease. I suppose that is his talent: to hide his emotions from the world and let everyone think that he hasn’t a care in the world.

            “There you are,” a voice crows, breaking the bubble of silence. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The twins approach from the direction of the House.

            “Who are you looking for?” I ask.

            “You. It’s time to check on the hobbit. Father thought you’d like to observe,” Elladan responds.

            “Oh, that’d be great. Do you mind?” I ask Legolas.

            “Please,” he motions to the twins. “There’s not much else for me to show you today.”

            “Thank you.” I stand and take my bow back to the shed and leave the cleaning rag on the hook with the rest. “I’ll see you later.”

            I walk with a twin on either side up to the halls of their home in silence. “Have you any insight on the mood of fair prince?” Elrohir asks.

            “What mood?”

            “The pouting.”

            “He was pouting?” I ask, evasively.

            “Sulking,” they answer together, dramatic sighs follow. “Call it what you will; he was not himself.”

            “We had an argument this morning at breakfast. We’re working it out.”

            “Do you want to talk about it?” Elladan asks. I’ve found him to be the wiser and more sensitive of the two, so far.

            “No, but thank you. I’d rather not think about it for a while. I was foolish. I need something else to do until he’s ready to talk about it too.”

            “As you wish,” he concedes.

Soon after, we reach the infirmary and my steps become more confident as my mind clears, allowing my thoughts to be overtaken by Frodo and what Lord Elrond would have to teach today. When we reach his room, Sam is gone and Lord Elrond is speaking lowly to Gandalf. They look up at the sight of us and cease conversing.

“ _Mae govannen_ , Sahalie. I see you changed Frodo’s bandages already. They are very good; you’re learning quickly.”

“Thank you. How is he healing?”

“As well as can be expected, but he is strong.”

“When do you think he’ll wake up?”

“Soon, I would say. Within the week, I suspect. Until then, we will check on him regularly, and wait for him to be ready to return.”

“Oh,” I respond, my heart sinks a little now that I’m not needed. “Do you want me to go, then?”

“That is entirely up to you. You have a talent for healing. If you like, we can continue your lessons.” Elrond’s expression conveys his desire to teach me, to help me succeed and help me to find a purpose here.

“I would love to,” I smile in relief for the distraction from waiting for Legolas to respond to my apology.

“Wonderful. I will leave you to your work,” Gandalf excuses himself with a wink in my direction. “I think it may be high time to check on our other companions before they find themselves in trouble.”

“That would be wise,” Elrond adds. The twins try to hide their snigger of amusement. I sense rather than see their movement behind me. I have the urge to elbow the Elf Lords in the stomach for their childish reaction, fully aware that my action would be childish as well. Instead, I let out a heavy sigh and a look to the sky for patience. “Come, we shall go,” Lord Elrond continues once Gandalf has gone.

“What about –” I gesture towards Frodo, sleeping peacefully on the bed, for the moment. The dark haired Elf holds a hand up in pause and comfort.

“He will be quite alright to be left alone for a short time. I suspect Samwise or Gandalf will be back shortly to sit with him. We will only be down the hall, should you feel the need to come check on him yourself.” This brings me some consolation, as I don’t like the idea of Frodo being alone for very long, though he seems to do well on his own during the daylight hours, dreams only disturbing him under the light of the moon.

“Well then, let us be off,” Lord Elrond announces, ushering us through the door. The twins lead the way down the hall to the prep room. I detect the slightest pitter-patter of bare feet approaching on the stone floor. “Ah, here he comes now.” Faithful Sam rounds the corner. I greet him with a smile before disappearing into the world of Elvish healing.

My afternoon is consumed by the earthy smells of herbs and roots used for ointments, salves, and tonics. I learn how to identify different plants, their properties, and how to combine them to produce a specific result. By the time Lord Elrond calls for a break for dinner, my mind feels ready to burst, like I crammed an entire semester of advanced archaeology classes into one night before the exam. Despite this, I feel content with all that I have managed to absorb so far, though there is much that I will need to take time to fully grasp. Tonics, for instance, are not my forte, but I think if I was asked, I could make a passable one for headaches. Before I go back to my room to change for dinner, something I still find rather strange, I go to check on Frodo. Upon entering, I find a still road weary hobbit clutching the hand of his bedridden companion. He seems to be dozing the warm afternoon light streaming in on his back. From experience, I know how relaxing that sensation can be, especially when your body is exhausted and wants to take your mind with it.

“Hello, Samwise,” I call from the doorway. Sam’s head shoots up from its precarious position near his shoulder, threatening a sore neck later.

“My lady,” he returns, surprised. “I was just resting my eyes for a moment.”

“I understand, Sam. I could hardly blame you, after all you’ve been through so far. Besides, Frodo is going to be alright. He needs the presence of someone who cares for him more than he needs eyes on him at all hours of the day. You are doing just that.”

“I just – I should have protected him. It’s my fault he’s here.” I walk around the bed and take his other hand between my own, and kneel to be at his level.

“Sam, there is nothing you could have done differently. From what I understand, these are bad people without remorse or respect for life. The fact that Frodo came out of that with only a single wound says a lot about how much you _were_ able to protect him. You carrying the guilt tells me a lot about the kind of person you are, and that person is amazing. You have a strong heart, but you should not carry this guilt. None of you should.”

“But I told Gandalf that I would protect him.”

“You think you have failed in your task?” I turn to find the wizard consuming the doorway, looking on the fretting hobbit in fondness. “I would not say so.”

“You are just tired, Sam. Poisonous thoughts always have a way of running rampant when we’re exhausted. Have you slept at all since you arrived?”

“A little.”

“Alright, off to bed with you. I will sit with him. Go get some chamomile tea and to bed.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Do as she says, Samwise Gamgee. You are no good to Frodo when you can barely keep your eyes open. Sleep. We will watch over him.”

“Oh, alright. But I’ll be back after a few hours of shut eye.”

“That sounds reasonable. Good night, Sam.” After Sam shuffled past Gandalf, he looked at me with his usual twinkle. “I’ve gotten plenty of sleep, thank you,” I counter before he can utter a word.

“Perhaps there is something I can get you then?”

“Actually, I would love some mint tea? If it’s not too much trouble?”

“I can certainly manage a few cups of tea, even in my old age.”

“If what I’ve read holds any truth, I doubt there is any chance of you being classically old. It must be nice,” I laugh, settling myself more comfortable in the bedside chair.

When Gandalf returns with a tray of tea and biscuits, dinner is in full swing. I can hear music and laughter drifting through the windows. He sets the tray on the table, passes a mug to me, and settles himself in one of the table chairs. “You do not wish to join the festivities?”

“I’m not very hungry. I’m fine with my tea for now, thank you. Do you ever join in?”

“Oh, when the appropriate occasion arises,” he smiles.

“Such as?”

“When it is time for a celebration.”

“You don’t share the opinion of celebrating the life of every day?”

“Do you?” the wizard counters.

“No, I suppose not. I don’t really see the point when there are more practical things to do; but I suppose when you can live forever, there’s not as much pressure to accomplish everything as quickly as possible.”

“That’s a fair point.” After that we hold a silent vigil over Frodo, drinking out tea at a leisurely pace. Eventually, I have to ask:

“How did Frodo receive such an injury? From what I’ve read, and seen the last few days, the hobbits are gentle people; they keep to themselves and they’re not violent. I just don’t understand.”

“How much of our history have you read?”

“Most of the current age, I think.”

“Have you learned of Sauron?” I think for a moment.

“The name is familiar but I can’t remember the context.”

“Long ago, rings of power were crafted and gifted to Men, dwarves, and Elves. Sauron forged a master ring in secret, capable of controlling the minds and desires of the others, in the hope of dominating the whole of Middle Earth. When Sauron was defeated during the battle of the Last Alliance and the ring passed to Isildur who failed to destroy it, having been corrupted by it already. The dark servants of Sauron have been searching for the lost ring in the years that have followed. Frodo was carrying the One Ring and was intercepted by the Nazgûl, the deadliest of Sauron’s servants, the nine kings of men who were gifted with the rings of power.”

“Did he lose it then? The ring?” Gandalf observed me for some time before answering.

“No, he did not lose it.”

“Then what happens now?” For the first time, Gandalf looked uncertain.

“I don’t know.” We fall once more into silence, observing the recovering hobbit before us.

 

Sometime later, the melancholy melody of someone singing drifts through the window to my ears. Gandalf had left me to myself when the sun descended behind the edge of the valley. After a glance at Frodo, I stand and make my way to the window. Under my tree, I see glimpses of silver and blue – Legolas. Moving away from the window, I make my way to the clearing where he sits and listen intently, not understanding the words, but feeling the pain in his voice. When I’m within reach of my tree friend, I reach up and brush my fingertips against the leaves, alerting her to my presence.

 _‘He sings of a time long past,’_ the voice tells me. I know Legolas more than likely knows I’m here, but he continues his song to the end. When the last note drifts off into the night air, I approach the other side of the trunk where he rests. I settle down beside him, looking out upon the moonlit valley.

“My mother died when I was an elfling. My father does not speak of it, and I barely remember her – flashes of her hair among the springtime leaves, the way her smile made me feel loved, her smell. She was killed in a battle. There is no grave and nothing to remember her by.” He looks at me then, a deep sadness etched in his eyes. “I was wrong to accost you with harsh words. I allowed my grief to overcome me. Forgive me.”

“We all say things we don’t mean, sometimes. I’m sorry about your mother.”

“You have had your own loss, too.”

“I have, and I was an angry child for years, but I had the gift of my childhood with them. You were robbed of that chance with your mother. I can’t even imagine how that must have felt.”

“Still, I should have been kinder. You were only trying to protect me from the darkness of your world as I would protect you from the darkness of mine. Even so, it’s our choice in the end, what we do with the time that is given to us.”


	10. Awake

            The tension of the day relieved, the next morning Legolas and I spend time together when Gandalf and Sam came to sit with Frodo. We go down to the training yards where I spend some time with the bow, pleased that I hit the target more often than not, but still needing some work on my aim. Afterwards I sit while Legolas spars with some of the other Elves in the yard, sometimes taking on multiple opponents at once. I can’t contain the awe I feel as I watch the grace of the Elves in their dance of death, so much like their dances of feasting. The blades sing and feet leap to and fro, a shout of merriment is occasionally heard.

            “Sahalie,” Elrohir beckons over the noise, touching my elbow to gain my attention. I turn my head but can’t take my eyes off the scene in front of me.

            “Yes?”

            “He’s awake.” My eyes swing to him now. He pulls my arm gently and we run. I spare a glance back to Legolas, but his focus in wrapped up in his sparring and I wouldn’t want his concentration to slip and land him in the infirmary if I were to call to him. “I’ll come back to get him later. Fear not.”

            When we reach the infirmary wing, I can hear Sam nearly shouting: “We were that worried, weren’t we Mister Gandalf?”

            “By the skills of Lord Elrond, you’re beginning to mend,” Gandalf adds. Elrond enters through the wide door as Elrohir and I round the final corner.

            “Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins.” I stop walking a few feet short of the door, surprised by my own uncertainty. Elrohir nudges me forward with an encouraging look. I take a deep breath and step past the threshold. “Sahalie, thank you for coming.” Frodo looks to me with a crystal gaze.

            “It is good to see you awake.”

            “It is good to be awake.” I feel self-conscious for a few moments.

            “How are you feeling?” I ask, moving to stand beside Lord Elrond.

            “Sore, and hungry.”

            “I’ll bring you some food,” Sam shouts, running for the door.

            “Bland food to start, if you will, Master Gamgee,” Lord Elrond calls after him.

            “Yes, sir,” he acknowledges before continuing on his way.

            “Now, if you would, your wound should be checked. Sahalie?”

            “Yes, sir.” I move forward to assist Frodo in sitting up all the way on his own and carefully removing his arm from his tunic while the Elf Lord washes his hands and collects the necessary supplies. “Are you alright?” I ask.

            “Quite, as can be expected, I suppose. Forgive me, but you seem familiar to me. How is that possible?”

            “Sahalie sat with you most nights since you arrived, my dear hobbit,” Gandalf offers before I can utter a word.

            “Really?” he asks, pinning me with his gaze.

            “Yes.”

            “Why?” I stop my movements and stare at the pillow. The question shouldn’t have caught me off guard or been unexpected, but I find myself without an answer.

            “Because it was the right thing to do,” I reply, though I’m not sure if it’s the whole answer. I look up at Elrond when his hands start to gently unwind the bandage until the healing wound is finally revealed. He returns my stare and gives me an approving look before addressing Frodo.

            “You may feel some tenderness over the coming weeks. Apart from that, you are healing remarkably well. There has been no sign of infection or residual darkness. As long as you maintain the proper care, I see no reason for you to remain in bed. If you feel ill or have any questions, Sahalie and myself are more than capable of answering and assisting you.” I aid Lord Elrond in the cleaning and treating of the wound as he talks, keeping a careful eye trained on Frodo, searching for any sign of discomfort and finding very little, none to cause alarm over.

            “That smells wonderful,” Frodo comments when I carefully apply the salve.

            “It’s a blend of various flowering herbs. I quite like the smell as well. It’s comforting,” I tell him.

            “I brought you a tray, Mister Frodo. I thought water and tea might be best to drink. Is that alright?” Sam announces from behind me.

            “Those are fine choices, Master Gamgee,” Elrond replies, looking over the tray. I finish helping Frodo back into his tunic and prop him up with pillows, then wash my hands in the basin. “We shall leave you to your meal. I request that you stay in bed for the remainder of the morning and we shall see how you fare after a bit of food and some rest. I shall check on you this afternoon.”

            “Thank you, Lord Elrond. And Lady Sahalie.” Frodo bows his head, a universal sign of respect. I return the gesture and walk out.

            Walking down the corridor, I find myself at a loss. For the first time since coming here, I feel homesick. Not for the life I left behind, but for the people I’ve lost. I miss the care and attention freely given to me by my parents whenever I was sick. I wander down to the clearing. I brush my fingertips against the leaves as I pass under them.

            _‘Hello, little one,’_ she greets me.

            “Hello.” I settle down in between her roots. “He’s awake. Frodo.”

            _‘You must be relieved.’_

            “Yes,” I reply, staring beyond the beauty of the Valley.

            _‘You are sad?’_ she asks, brushing against my consciousness.

            “Yes,” I whisper.

            _‘What weighs on you, little one?’_ I’m wrapped in a warm embrace I can nearly feel upon my skin.

            “I miss my family,” I continue in a whisper, rediscovering my long-buried feelings. “Since arriving here, I never felt alone. I felt at peace for the first time in years, but seeing the love Frodo is surrounded by, the number of people he has to care for him, I want that. That’s not something I’ve had for a very long time. You have one too many heartbreaks and you shut yourself off from the possibility, so that’s partly my own fault, but I don’t want to be alone anymore.” At some point, I couldn’t get the words out anymore and so was speaking through whatever connection allows me to hear my tree friend. Tears roll down my cheeks and I curl into the tree, hiding my tears from any who might chance a look.

            _‘It may be little comfort to you now, little one, but you are loved by those you have met here. You bring them hope, and light, though you may not see it.’_ I sit quietly still, until at last my tears dry on my cheeks.

            “Thank you.”

            _‘I will always be here to comfort you, little one.’_

            “I think I have a name for you now. Would you like to hear it?”

            _‘I would love to.’_ I feel something akin to what I imagine a smile to feel like, as you can hear the sound of someone’s voice change when they’re smiling.

            “Gaia. It means ‘earth’ but in my world, there were the Greeks. They had a goddess named Gaia who was a great mother over the earth.”

            _‘What a beautiful name. Thank you.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is shorter, but I felt that it was a good place to end. I hope you enjoyed it.


	11. Home

            The days pass slowly as I keep to myself, for the most part. I miss the time I spend with Legolas and the twins, but I don’t feel like myself. I attend to Frodo in the mornings at Lord Elrond’s request. The hobbit is now up and moving around. A few days after he awoke I was sitting in the window of the library reading a tome on healing that Lord Elrond suggested when I heard joyous shouts in the courtyard below. When I looked, Frodo was being embraced by his younger companions. Farther down the walkway, Bilbo was sitting on a bench with a book in his lap, impatiently waiting for his nephew, if his swinging legs was any indication. I have to smile at the enthusiasm of the group.

            “You have been rather quiet of late,” a soft voice calls from beside me. I find the Lady Arwen looking at me with a soft smile. “Something troubles you. My brothers have been keeping the prince busy, but we’ve all been worried.”

            “I’ll be alright. I just never really gave myself an adjustment period when I woke up here; it’s just all catching up with me. I’m sorry I worried you.” Arwen comes to sit by my feet on the cushion.

            “Do you miss your home?”

            “Yes and no. I didn’t have any family, really. The last person I had that I really cared for was my foster father, but he passed away a year ago.”

            “I’m sorry. What about your friends?”

            “I didn’t really have any. I had people I knew and would hang out with occasionally, but I moved around so much after my parents died that I found it really hard to connect with anyone. I had people that would promise to keep in touch, and we did for a while, but then the contact would just stop. I got used to it after a while.” We sat quietly for a moment. I watched out the window to see Frodo and Bilbo walking together.

            “I hope you know that you have a home here for as long as you want it. If you want to return to your world, I will help you as best I can. We can ask Mithrandir if he knows a way to get you there.”

            “Maybe. There’s a saying in my world the everything happens for a reason. I’d like to find out why I was brought here. It doesn’t make sense, but I’d like to stick it out until I do. I’m not unhappy here, just finally feeling the full weight of this being my new reality and not just a dream. If I were home, I would probably be sent to a mad house. Everyone would think me insane,” I continue, seeing Arwen’s confusion at my choice of words.

            “You don’t have magic in your home?”

            “No, we don’t.”

 

 

            “Good morning, Frodo,” I smile, walking through the doorway. “How are you feeling today?”

            “Just fine. That tea you gave me has been helping with the stiffness. I can move my shoulder much better now, thank you.”

            “I’m glad to hear it.” I set my jars and bandages down on the bedside table before helping Frodo out of his sleep shirt. “Oh, it’s healing faster now. It seems being up and around has helped a lot.”

            “That’s good to know.” I begin the now-familiar process of cleaning away the excess salve, applying a new batch and wrapping it up, loosely now for mobility and air flow. “How have you been, Sahalie?” I look at his earnest eyes in surprise.

            “I’ve been alright. Why do you ask?”

            “It seems like you’ve been troubled. I just wondered why. Can I help?”

            “I’m alright, I promise. Or I will be. I’m not from this world so I’m adjusting. Nothing for you to worry about. You being awake is all the help you can give me,” I smile back. “Thank you.” He continues to look at me skeptically, but finally nods his assent.

            “Alright then. Keep your secrets,” a small smirk crosses his lips.

            “You hobbits really are impossible,” I laugh.

            “It’s in our nature.” The smirk transforms into a full-on grin.

 

 

            When evening comes, Sam is adamant he stay with Frodo. Lord Elrond promised that Frodo would be moved out of the infirmary in the morning but Sam still wanted to stay close by. After much coaxing, Arwen sent me to my room where I found a new outfit of black leggings and a royal purple, sleeveless blouse. The Elven Lady knocked on my door a few moments later.

            “Good evening, Sahalie. May I come in?”

            “Of course,” I open the door wider. “Did you leave this for me?” I ask, motioning to the garments.

            “I did. I thought they might make you feel better. We want you to feel at home here, Sahalie; all of us. We love you.”

            “Thank you. Truly.” I take her hands in mine and give them an affectionate squeeze.

            “Would you like to try it on?” she asks. There is a mischievous glint in her eyes, but it vanishes quickly enough that I might have imagined it, projecting her brothers’ personalities onto her.

            “Sure, why not?”

            “Excellent,” she smiles. I reciprocate, moved by the carefree radiance of the action. I walk behind the changing screen and peel off my day clothes to don the new set. “That looks wonderful on you,” Arwen smiles when I step out.

            “It feels wonderful. I wore clothes like this at home. Thank you so much.”

            “Anything for you,” she smiles again. We sit and chat for a while longer before she excuses herself for the evening. When she leaves, I feel more settled that I’d felt in days. More like myself. Light-hearted, I pick up a borrowed book and settle in to read.

            An hour or so later, a knock on the door startles me from my in-depth study of the rise and fall of Sauron, compiled by Lord Erestor, the scholar and librarian of Rivendell. I set the book aside and pad to the door. However, when I open the door, no one is there. As I go to close it, something on the floor catches my attention. A green and yellow fletching feather. One of Legolas’. Bending down, I pick it up and see another a few feet down the hall. I follow the trail leading through the Last Homely House and out past the courtyard. Barefooted still, I have little fear of stepping on sharp rocks or thorns as the trail leads me down a forest path.

            “Hello, Sahalie,” Legolas greets when I reach the end.

            “ _Mae govannen_. What is all this for?” I ask, gesturing to the feathers I picked up along the way.

            “We thought you might like to play a game with us,” Elrohir answers, stepping out from the shadows.

            “What kind of game?”

            “Just watch,” Elladan smiles, emerging to pull a blindfold over Legolas’ eyes. He moves away once it’s secure. Legolas pulls an arrow from the quiver stand at his feet, aims, and lets loose into the darkness of the trees. A moment later, impact is announced by the chime of a bell. He aims three more times and is answered by three more bells throughout the clearing.

            “How many decades did it take for you to be that skilled?” I laugh when Legolas removes the blindfold.

            “Would you like to try?” His smile is radiant.

            “I’d rather not. Do you have any other ideas in mind? I can barely hit the target I can _see_ , let alone one I can’t.”

            “You’re no fun,” Elrohir pouts. “You could help us with one of Ada’s chores then, if you want.”

            “We have to restock some herbs that only bloom at night.”

            “That sounds much better,” I smile. “No offense,” I tell Legolas.

            “None given,” he laughs, stowing his bow in the quiver. “I can help, too.”

            “I just need shoes if we’re going to be roaming in the woods.”

            “Here’s a copy of the list then,” Elladan replies, pulling a list from his pocket. “You know all of these, yes?” Taking the list, I look it over.

            “I think so, yes. I’ll get the ones I know for sure and leave the rest for you. I’ll meet you out there?”

            “Sure, be careful. Call if you need anything.”

            “Let’s go princeling,” Elrohir tells Legolas, wrapping an arm around the Silvan elf’s shoulder, pulling him along. I run back to my room and pull my boots on. When I make it back to the clearing, a small gathering bag had been left for me, which I tossed over my shoulder and made my way into the woods. I could faintly hear the twins’ laughter in the distance. I head in the opposite direction, hoping to cover more ground.

            My mind is filled with the sounds of nature as I search for the plants on the list. I hum tunelessly to myself, steadily filling my bag. Nearby, the crack of a stick breaking disrupts the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Closer than before I hear laughter.

            _“Hey, baby doll.”_ I whip around, trying to find the source of the laughter. The woods are dark and I can’t see very far in front of me anymore. When did it get so dark? A large hand rests on my shoulder.

            “Sahalie,” the accompanying voice echoes, far away.

            _“Hey, baby doll. We can have some fun.”_

            “Stop,” I scream, turning to land a solid punch at the body behind me. Blindly I run, feeling the blade sink into my flesh. I stumble, catching myself on a tree and keep going. A narrow stream of light breaks through my vision and I run full stride towards it. I crash into it and feel warm arms wrap around me. I panic as they tighten around me and push hard against the chest there. “Let go,” I cry.

            _“Come out, come out, sweetheart. You can’t get too far, can you? Just give up.”_

            “Go away,” I moan, trying to push the voices away.

            “Shhh,” the voice rumbles. “I’m here. You’re home. You don’t need to be afraid.” I sink to the ground, clutching the vest of the silver elf.

            “Legolas,” one of the twins shouts. I don’t listen to the words being exchanged; instead I feel the rumble of Legolas’ chest when he speaks, letting it soothe my frantic heart.

            _‘Are you alright, little one?’_

            “Gaia?” I ask, through my thoughts.

            _‘Yes, little one.’_

            “I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. I thought I was home, in my world. The night I came here I was attacked and Legolas found me. I’d be dead if he hadn’t. If I hadn’t been brought to your world.”

            _‘Be still, little one. You are home, as Greenleaf has said. You belong here, elfling.’_ I feel the gentle caress of her presence brush against my heart.

            “Come, Sahalie. Let’s get you inside,” Legolas murmurs against my head, arms still wrapped tightly around me. I nod, still holding onto his tunic. We stand together and walk, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. My arms move to his waist. Looking out around us, I’m reassured by the light streaming through the forest canopy. It helps me to breathe more easily.

            “What happened?” Arwen asks, standing beside her father when we come back to the Last Homely House.

            “I don’t know,” Legolas answers for me. Arwen approaches cautiously and gently wraps her arms around me in a hug before releasing me. Lord Elrond approaches next, gently examining my heartbeat and looking for any indicators as to my condition in my eyes.

            “Arwen, would you help me prepare some tea? Sahalie is in capable hands.” He makes eye contact with me and Legolas before pulling his daughter way. Legolas leads me to my room. Once inside, he lets me go.

            “Why don’t you lay down for a while? Lord Elrond will be back in a moment.” He backs towards the door.

            “Please don’t go,” I request, quietly. His serious face melts into something softer.

            “I’ll be right outside while you change. I won’t leave you.” I nod my understanding and he exits, closing the door closed behind him. I take off my new clothes and fold them into a chair and pull an overlarge blouse over my head and some leggings before opening the door once more. I stride over to my bed and pull the covers down and slide underneath them, curling on my side, facing the door. Legolas approaches slowly, unsure of where he should be, it seems. I move the covers on the other side of the bed as an indication. “Are you sure?”

            “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He nods and sits on the edge of the bed, tugging off his boots. A knock on the door frame alerts us to Arwen’s presence there, holding a steaming mug.

            “My father has prescribed a calming tea for you, Sahalie.” I sit up slightly as she rounds the bed to hand it to me. I take it gratefully before she sits. She cradles the side of my head in her hand. I lean into the maternal touch. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

            “I will be. Thank you.”

            “If you’re sure.” She leans down and places a kiss upon my brow and rises, leaving me and Legolas once more. He moves gracefully to stretch out beside me as I drink the tea, feeling the effects instantly. My body relaxes and soon I’m setting an empty mug on the bedside table. I curl into his side, letting his light and the warmth of the chamomile soothe my frayed nerves.

            “Will you stay with me?”

            “Always.” As I close my eyes for sleep to take me, he begins to sing an Elven lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm so sorry there's been such a delay in updating! I hope the length of this chapter makes up for it. It turned out a little darker than I expected, but I feel that this scene was necessary. I hope you enjoyed and, as always, thank you for reading and I'd love to hear from you!


	12. Family Matters

            Glaring sunlight filters into my window, indicating it is well past dawn before I open my eyes. I groan into my pillow, raising my head to meet Legolas’ eyes at his stifled chuckle.

            “Hi,” I grumble, burying my face once more. “You stayed.”

            “You asked me to.” I can hear his smile in the lift of his lips, the soft caress of his voice.

            “I know, but I didn’t expect you to stay all night. Most guys I know would have left as soon as I was asleep.”

            “Where is the honor in that? You asked me to stay and I promised I would.”

            “Don’t you have other things you need to be doing though?” I ask, rearranging myself to look up at him when he answers.

            “Nothing that couldn’t wait until I knew you were alright.”

            “I’m better now.”  
            “Would you like to talk about what happened?” His brows furrow in worry as he waits for me to decide.

            “Not right now, no. I need to get up and move. I slept too long.”

            “I’ll leave you, then, and meet you for breakfast?” he suggests, thankfully taking the hint for my need for some privacy.

            “That sounds great, thank you.” With one last smile he stands, takes his boots in hand and leaves me to myself. I rub my face against my pillow, enjoying the sensation it brings before dragging myself out of bed.

 

 

            “Good morning, Sahalie. How are you feeling?” Lord Elrond greets.

            “Much better now, thank you.”

            “I’m glad to hear it. If you would be so kind to come see me after you’ve eaten?”

            “Yes, of course.” With a nod at my answer, the Elf Lord drifts past me up the stairs, presumably to his study.

            “Well, hello there, sleepy head,” the twins chime from across the dining hall.

            “I’m going to regret teaching you that,” I sigh.

            “Be honest, you regretted it the moment you said it,” Elladan cheers.

            “Hello, Sahalie,” Arwen hugs me. Legolas and Estel stand just behind, small smiles gracing their faces. The twins approach, plates laden with fruits.

            “Hello,” I return.

            “Did you sleep well?” the lady Elf asks, genuine concern gracing her features.

            “I did, thank you. The tea was wonderful, by the way.”

            “I’m glad.” Her smile doesn’t fully reach her eyes, though her words are the truth.

            “Come sit with us,” Estel offers, though Legolas offers his arm in an overly dramatic fashion for a casual breakfast.

            “I just need to grab some food,” I agree, stepping away towards the buffet tables.

            “We already have that covered,” Elrohir nudges my shoulder towards Legolas.

            “Alright then,” I laugh, taking the prince’s arm. When the Elves move aside, the table behind them is almost as full as the buffet table on the opposing side of the room. “Are we expecting a party?”

            “Not at all. This is for us.”

            “I hope you have a hefty appetite because there’s no way I’m eating all of that. I won’t even make a dent.”

            Three servings of food and six full bellies later, I lean back in my chair, content to listen to the stories the Elves weave. Most include the shenanigans the twins, prince, and human got into when Estel was younger. Arwen describes her time in the Golden Wood with her grandmother after her mother left Middle Earth, a topic I could tell was painful, so I didn’t ask for an explanation. After a long bout of laughter, the twins look at me seriously. I feel my contentment evaporate, body tensing in preparation of their probing questions. I hold up a hand to stop them before they can speak.

            “I know you have questions, but I really don’t want to talk about what happened yet. I just want to get back to normal.”  
            “But –” Elrohir starts.

            “Leave her be, brother,” Arwen cuts him off, again.

            “But she –” Elladan objects, concern flooding his features. I sit, feeling disconnected from my body as the siblings argue, though they never raise their voices to each other.

            “That’s enough,” Legolas stands, the voice of a prince ringing through the hall, bringing my mind back to my body. I look at him with shock at the tone, not one I’ve heard from the usually playful prince, so far. “She doesn’t want to talk about it. There should be no more discussion on the matter.”

            “How can you say that? You know better than most what happens when you keep things to yourself,” Elladan retorts.

            “Everything has its own time. You cannot force the river to flow to your whim,” Estel voices, speaking for the first time on the subject.

            “I appreciate your concern, truly. I can’t express how much that means to me, but I’d like to be able to pull myself together first. All I will say on the matter for now is that I wasn’t in a good situation and it could have been a lot worse but since I woke up here, I’ve felt safer than I’ve felt in a very long time. Each of you has had a part to play in that. Thank you.” The twins look mollified for the moment though I can tell they will simply be biding their time until I open up to them. The remaining three of the party all give me smiles of understanding and acceptance. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Elrond wanted to see me. Thank you for the breakfast. It was delicious,” I smile back. I feel all their eyes on me as I walk away. I pass the hobbits just coming down for breakfast on the stairs. They’re so wrapped up in each other they hardly spare a glance for me.

            I knock on the doorframe when I reach Elrond’s study. He looks up from whichever tome he’s reading, crinkle between his brows still present from his concentrated state. “You wanted to see me?”

            “Yes, please come in,” he stands, motioning to a seat at the window, moving to meet me there. “How are you feeling?”

            “Better.”

            “Could you tell me what happened? Even when you woke up in the infirmary, you never had a reaction like last night.”

            “I honestly don’t really know. I was helping find the herbs you needed and I thought I was back in the forest in my world. I heard the men coming after me and felt the knife stab me and so I ran.”

            “You relived the trauma that brought you here?”

            “Yes.”

            “It’s not unheard of to have episodes after events of a violent nature. Your body remembers even if your mind is able to push it aside. You’ve been keeping yourself busy. I worry that you haven’t given yourself the time to process the events of your coming here.”

            “I suppose I haven’t. It’s just easier not to think about it, I guess.” Elrond looks at me with more concern than before.

            “In my experience, the longer an issue goes without being addressed, the more it will come back to haunt you. I understand that your trauma was great, but unfortunately, not facing it may lead to further damage in the future. I will be here if you need someone. You have a bright future, Sahalie. I don’t know if that future is here in Middle Earth, or if you will be returned to your own world, but you have a good head on your shoulders. You will do great things.”

            I look at my hands, twisting and folding them as I contemplate his words. “What if I don’t want to leave?” I never gave voice to the secret desire building within me, feeling as though by voicing it, the opposite would come true.

            “If that is what comes to pass, you will always have a home here. My children have become quite fond of you.” I look up and see the smile gracing the lord’s face. I smile back in return.

            “I’ve become quite fond of them, too.” I glance out the window before continuing. “I will do as you ask. I know I need to face my past, but I don’t know if I’m ready to quite yet.”

            “That is all I ask. I’m sure if you ask, you have several willing ears to help you through this process.” I laugh.

            “Believe me, if I ask one, I know I’ll have all of them. God forbid I leave one of them out.” I turn my head to the sound of hooves galloping into the courtyard below, seeing Elrond turn as I do. I hear the sigh leave him before he stands.

            “Forgive me, but I must see to our new guests. Thank you for coming to see me. We will talk again soon.” I stand to be at his level once more.

            “Of course. Thank you, for caring, I mean.” I hug him quickly, catching him off-guard before he wraps his arms around me. I let go after a moment and turn on my heel to leave, feeling his eyes on my back until I pass his doorway.


	13. The Council of Elrond

            After leaving Lord Elrond in his study, I make my way down the steps to the courtyard to find the twins, Arwen, Legolas, and Estel all lined up to great the guests arriving. I look back towards the window to see Gandalf and Elrond observing us from their vantage point. The air around them seems tense so I avert my eyes and continue on to stand beside my friends.

            “Who are all these people?” I ask Legolas, who is closest to me.

            “They are delegates from other nations in Middle Earth. Those men there are from Gondor, and those are the Dwarves.” I can hear the distaste in his tone when he mentions the latter race. From my brief reading on the history of Middle Earth, I recall that there’s always been a strained relationship between Elves and Dwarves as their lifestyles are about as opposite as you can get, on the surface. I’m curious, though, how much they are actually alike, underneath.

            “Why are they here?”

            “Just for a meeting,” he smiles at me. “It’s good for us to convene every so often, even with scattered histories.” Legolas’ smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which show the truth of his age. They are tense and unlike the light-hearted prince I laughed with just a few hours ago.

            “Oh, alright then. Like a peace delegation?”

            “Something like that.” He turns his attention back to the dismounting group.

            “Sahalie?” I face Arwen now.

            “Yes?”

            “I wondered if you could help me with something?”

            “Of course.”

            “Wonderful,” she beams. “Let us get our guests settled first, shall we?” Shooting a glance to her brothers, they take their cue and step forward.

            “Welcome to Rivendell. I’m sure you must all be tired from your journeys,” Elladan begins.

            “We will have your horses stabled and well taken care of.”

            “When are we to meet with Lord Elrond?” one of the men from Gondor interrupts before Elrohir can continue.

            “Lord Elrond is attending to other matters at the moment but will be free to speak with you shortly. As I was saying,” Elrohir gives a hard look at the man before continuing on. “We have rooms prepared for you to rest in after your journeys.”

            “Now, gentlemen, if you would kindly follow me, I will show you to your rooms,” Arwen offers, and turns to lead the way, Estel following a short pace behind her. The Dwarves and Men follow behind the pair, and I turn to bring up the rear, Legolas falling into step beside me. The twins walk behind us, breaking off to veer to their father’s office once we reach the landing. Arwen gracefully offers the guests their rooms and informs them of where to eat, bathe, and to ask anyone for help should they need anything else.

            “Are you ready?” Arwen asks, gliding over to me.

            “Absolutely,” I smile. She links her arm with mine and leads me away down the hall. “Where are we going?”

            “You will see,” she grins, though the glint in her eyes in reminiscent of the one her brothers get when they’re up to something. We continue to walk, passing in and out of sunlight, until we reach the training grounds. Arwen releases my arm at the edge of an arena and disappears into a shed, returning with two wooden swords.

            “And we’re doing what with those?” I ask, taking one wearily when she holds one out to me.

            “Legolas has been teaching you to use the bow, but he’s neglected to teach you the closer combat weaponry and defense. I don’t know how long you shall remain with us, and I pray you never have to use these skills, but I think it is important for you to know how to use a sword, as well. Besides, I find that learning something new helps one get through times of hardship.”

            “Yes, they do. Thank you.” She nods her head with a smile.

            “Now, find your grip and raise your sword.” I do as she asks while she moves to stand beside me. She adjusts my grip to the correct position on the handle. “Good. Shall we begin?”

            “Teach away,” I smile, and we spend the rest of the afternoon going through forms, types of offensive and defensive positions, how to use our size to our advantage, and more. She moves gracefully and teaches patiently. I aim to mirror her movements as best I can. By the time the sun begins to set, my body aches but I feel pleased with my progress.

            “That’s enough for today. We should wash up for dinner. Shall we?” Arwen asks, leading the way to the shed to return the practice swords.

            “Yes, please. I’m starving. And thank you for teaching me.”

            “Any time you’d like, just ask,” she smiles. We reach the courtyard and I can already smell the food. My stomach growls once more.

            “I’ll see you in a little while,” I tell her, parting ways to make my way back up to my own room.

 

 

 

            As I finish the last ties on the sleeve of my dress, a gift from Arwen, a soft knock on my door draws my attention. Bare-footed, I stride over and open my door to find Legolas ready to escort me to dinner, though I’d not expected him.

            “Good evening,” he bows slightly, with a smile gracing his face. He hasn’t stopped looking over my dress since I opened the door. I look down at the green and gold stitching, but can find nothing wrong with it.

            “Hello. Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing? Arwen had it sent for me. I figured it was because of all the people here. She wants to make sure we all look our best, I suppose, except the shoes still won’t stay on my feet and my boots are covered in dirt and don’t go with the dress, and I’m going to stop talking now.” I duck my head as I feel my cheeks warm.

            “There’s nothing wrong with your dress,” he smiles.  “Would you care to walk to dinner with me?”

            “That’d be great, thank you,” I laugh, taking his offered arm.

            “My pleasure.” We walk along quietly for a few moments and I can feel myself relaxing even more in his presence. “What did Arwen need you for this morning? You were occupied for most of the afternoon.”

            “Oh, she wanted to teach me how to use a sword. It was interesting. Much different than using a bow, but it was fun.”  
            “I see.” There’s a thoughtful expression on his face as we continue to walk. I don’t press him on what it means as we descend the stairs to the banquet hall.

            “Legolas, Sahalie,” the twins cheer when they see us joining the crowd. “Sahalie,” the hobbits cheer, joining in. Their red cheers and glazed eyes indicate their level of intoxication, though the night has just begun. I glare at the Elf Lords upon taking in their close proximity to the halflings.

            “What are you thinking? Dinner hasn’t even been served yet.” My reprimand does nothing but feed the flame of the twins’ mischievousness. “Impossible; you’re impossible,” I sigh and accept the crushing hugs of the towering Elves.

            “But that’s what makes our fun,” Elrohir explains with a shrug.

            “Ah, yes, I’ve learned that by now. I really don’t know why I bother.” I laugh and crouch down to meet the hugs of the drunken hobbits.

            “Come on, let’s dance,” Pippin cries, tugging on one of my hands. I laugh and allow myself to be pulled along. The music transitions from the serene tune it had held to a jaunty one as we step onto the dance floor. The hobbits bounce all around me with kicking feet and linking arms. I feel myself getting dizzy just watching them, but I feel their joy in the air and can’t help but join in on it. Sam takes my hand and we spin around, trading off partners and I dance with Pippin next, followed by Merry. The dance comes to an end and my cheeks are warm with laughter and exertion. For such small beings, my dance partners have an abundance of energy.

            “Food,” the hobbits cheer, once again pulling me along to the table. We sit down as the plates are being settled in front of each of the guests. I notice each race is sitting secluded from each other to the best of their ability. The dwarves sit at the far end of the table, as far from the Elves as they can get, and the Men sit close together in the middle while the Elves, the majority of them natives to Imladris, take up the rest of the available space. I sit with the hobbits across from the Men.

            “Good evening,” I nod to the new occupants.

            “Good evening. You have quite the enthusiastic dance partners there,” one of the guests comments.

            “Yes, they are,” I laugh, looking at my companions who sit straighter with pride.

            “I am Boromir, and you are?”

            “Sahalie.”

            “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Sahalie.”

            “Just Sahalie.” I move to fill my water glass. Looking across the table, I catch Legolas looking my way. He shoots a glance to the Half-elven children and they all look towards Boromir, as well. The looks convey concern and mistrust of the stranger, though I can’t fathom why at the moment as my attention is stolen by the table manners of the hobbits beside me. I laugh away the concern of my friends for the moment as I pass the napkins on the table down to their owners before they make a mess of their clothes, reminding me vaguely of children getting into their birthday cakes when no one is looking.

 

 

 

            Dinner is pleasant and the plates are cleared swiftly. When the tables are moved away, there is plenty of room for the dance floor once more. The Elves all pair up and I begin my approach towards Legolas and his companions, whom I seem to have been separated from all day. Before I reach them, simple red robes stand before me, too close. I stop short and look up to the bearded face of the man, Boromir.

            “Would you care to dance with me, Sahalie?” he asks.

            “Oh, sure.” I take his offered hand and follow him to the dance floor, looking back at my intended destination to see mixed emotions crossing their faces. We start in on what resembles a waltz and I follow the lead of Boromir, surprised at his grace despite his size.

            “Where do you come from, Sahalie?” Boromir asks, looking down at me in interest.

            “Not from around here. And you?” I’m not sure how to answer such a question without explaining that I somehow came from another world to enter this one.

            “I’m a soldier, from Gondor. But on this occasion, I’ve been requested to act as delegate.” His chest puffs slightly in pride to the former statement, though he looks troubled slightly at the prospect of representing his nation as a delegate.

            “Oh? And what brings you here?”

            “I’m not sure, as of yet. We received a summons and here we are.”  
            “I see.” The dance comes to an end and we bow to each other. Boromir’s brow furrows as he observes me coming out of my bow.

            “You seem different from the others.”

            “What others?” I wonder what he sees in me that causes such a reactionary statement.

            “Sahalie, care to dance with me?” Legolas has his hand extended towards me, while Estel and Arwen move into place to dance the next set, as well. I bow once more to Boromir.

            “Thank you for the dance.” I take Legolas’ offered hand and move away from the Gondor soldier. “That was a little rude, Elf,” I glare at the Elf prince.

            “He was asking too many questions,” he responds, turning me into place before him just as the music begins, a faster paced dance than the one before.

            “So what if he asks questions? He can ask them as much as he likes, and I will answer them as I see fit. That’s no reason to be rude.” The hard glint in his eyes fades as he looks at the hard set of my jaw.

            “You’re right. I’m sorry. But after what happened last night, I worry. We don’t know these strangers, yet. We don’t know how much they can be trusted. Is that so bad?” I sigh.

            “I suppose not, but I can take care of myself. Please let me.” At that moment, his hands leave mine in favor of my waist and I’m in the air for a weightless moment before I’m settled back into his arms again. I catch my breath and let out a peel of laughter.

            “I suppose that’s not an unreasonable request.”

            “Thank you,” I smile and he lifts me off my feet once more, prompting more laughter and cheers from the watch Elves and hobbits.

 

 

 

            “Where is everyone, Gaia?” I settle against my friend early the next morning, still feeling light from a night of dancing and laughter. “I haven’t seen anyone, today. Even the hobbits are missing.”

            _‘Good morning, little one.’_

            “I’m sorry. Good morning, Gaia.” I take a bite of my bread and let the warmth of the sun wash over me from the safety of Gaia’s shade.

            _‘Half-elven has many strangers in a courtyard. Men and Elves and small Dwarves with axes.’_ I feel her discomfort at the prospect of the axes the dwarves favor.

            “What are they talking about? Can you show me?”

            _‘I can try, little one.’_ I settle my hand firmly on the roots next to me to establish a clearer connection into the network of nature that Gaia is connected to. I feel myself moving through this network, almost like moving on a high speed subway.

            ‘Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall,’ the steady voice of Lord Elrond comes through, and I can almost see the company gathered around him, filled with tension. I can sense the energy of each being which forms a general outline of each person.

            “Is this how you see us?”

            _‘Yes, little one.’_

            “It’s amazing,” I breathe in wonder.

            ‘In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark. In the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, your doom is near at hand. Isildur’s Bane is found. Isildur’s Bane.’ I recognize the voice as Boromir’s, the delegate from Gondor, though the voice sounds different through the network.

            ‘Boromir,’ Elrond’s voice comes through in a warning tone.

            _‘Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.’_ Gandalf’s voice booms and the trees shriek in anger and disgust. I cover my own ears with a silent cry as their emotions overwhelm me and I feel darkness pressing in against my mind.

            _‘Murderer. Deceiver. Usurper.’_ The network of trees all cry together, over and over. It takes them a few moments to calm. When they do, my ears are ringing and I take another minute to focus.

‘You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.’ The conversation continued on with Lord Elrond speaking again, though I feel I missed a large part of the conversation.

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ There is some commotion which I cannot see, the connection to the meeting still fuzzy after the distress the network felt.

‘The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this.’ No one speaks for a few moments, and my mental image of the scene becomes more clear as the trees settle. I can see one figure standing, whom I assume is Lord Elrond.

‘One does not simply walk into Mordor,’ Boromir speaks again. ‘It’s black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the great eye is ever watchful. ‘Tis a barren wasteland riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.’

            Another figure leaps to stand and face Boromir. ‘Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed,’ Legolas’ voice comes through the network clearly, colored in disbelief and an undertone of anger.

            ‘And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?’ A new voice joins the conversation, though I can’t determine where it came from but I suspect it came from the Dwarf party.

            ‘And if we fail, what then?’ Boromir stands to face Legolas at eye level. ‘What happens with Sauron takes back what is his?’

            ‘Never trust an Elf,’ the dwarf cries. Nearly everyone in the party stand and move aggressively towards each other and begin to argue. I can’t discern one voice from the next any longer but the energy surrounding the entire party burns brightly, red and angry in the center with spots of bright light from some individuals, the Elves I assume, but darkness seems to creep in at the edges as the trees grow agitated once more.

            ‘I will take it,’ a small bodied being joins the crowd. A hobbit? ‘I will take it,’ the voice cries again.

            “Frodo?” I whisper to myself.

            ‘I will take the Ring to Mordor.’ All the arguing voices cease in that moment. ‘Though, I do not know the way.’

            ‘I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear.’ Gandalf has several emotions flowing through his statement, but I think I sense pride and sadness conflicting within the words.

            One of the few seated figures finally stands and crosses the courtyard to where Gandalf stands with Frodo. ‘If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.’

            ‘And you have my bow,’ Legolas joins his friends. _No._

_‘Greenleaf?’_

            ‘And my axe,’ the dwarf adds. There is a moment of silence as the remaining members observe each other, waiting to see if anyone else will step up.

            ‘You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is truly the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done.’ Boromir approaches the rest of the volunteers. Not a moment later, the bushes startle as someone abruptly leaves them.

            ‘Oi,’ he cries, rushing to stand with the others. ‘Mr. Frodo’s not going anywhere without me.’ _Sam_ , I smile.

            ‘No, indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council, and you are not,’ Lord Elrond returns, amusement coloring his tone.

            ‘Wait, we’re coming, too.’ Two more small bundles of energy fly into the courtyard from the main house to join the other hobbits. Merry and Pippin have been spying, too, it seems.

            ‘Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission – quest – thing.’

            ‘Well that rules you out, Pip,’ Merry chides. I can’t help but laugh at Pippin’s innocence.

            ‘Nine companions,’ Elrond continues as though his secret council hadn’t been crashed. ‘So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.’

            ‘Right. Where are we going?’ Pippin asks, and I laugh once more. Clearly he hadn’t been paying attention too much to have missed the whole point of the meeting.

            I pull my mind back towards myself and retain my connection to Gaia. “So they’re going to Mordor? Do you think they will come back, Gaia?”

            _‘They are strong, little one. Have faith. Mithrandir will see to their care.’_

            “But what about me? What am I doing here?”

            _‘I don’t know, elfling.’_


	14. Saying Goodbye

            “There you are,” the Mirkwood prince sighs happily, finding me lounging between Gaia’s roots towards the beginning of the afternoon. It had been a while since Elrond’s final proclamation of the Fellowship of the Ring. Gaia has been a constant presence as I sit under her branches and let my mind go numb. “No one has seen you today. What have you been doing?” His tone is light, almost jovial, as usual, but I don’t really feel in the mood to keep up with him for the moment.

          “You’re leaving.” I don’t ask a question or pretend I don’t already know. I keep my eyes trained on the waterfall before me as Legolas sighs and lowers himself to the ground beside me.

          “Yes.” I nod, trying to sort out the emotions swirling inside me – fear, sadness, loneliness – while pins prick behind my eyes.

          “When?”

          “A fortnight, at least.” I can see the Elf look at me out of the corner of my eye. “We need time to prepare, and Frodo needs to regain more of his strength.”

          “You’re taking him to Mordor. I know I haven’t been here long and all I know about this place is the little I’ve read in books, but you can’t possibly – you just, you can’t take him there. There has to be some other way. What if you don’t come back? Any of you?” I feel tears prickling harder than before. Legolas shifts so he’s facing me.

          “Sahalie, look at me.” He waits patiently for me to turn to face him, too. “We will come back. Do you believe me?” He looks so sincere, so earnest, and I do believe him. They all, I’m sure, have something to fight for. Life. Goodness. Happiness.

          “I believe you. I just hate to see you go. I know you have to. Still, that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I attempt to laugh. “But it’s what is right. Will you tell your father?”

          “I can send a message back with the others, but we’ll be gone before they reach Mirkwood.”

          “When will they leave?”

          “They’ll stay on another few days to help with preparations, then ride back.” His eyes look far away when he answers.

          “Can I help?”

          “I think the twins mentioned going on another gathering trip in the next few days if you’re up to it. I’m sure they’d appreciate the help.”

          “Absolutely.”

 

 

          True to his word, Legolas and the others were busy with strategic preparations for much of the following days. I went on a gathering expedition with Estel and the twins for one of those days, which went much better than the last one, thank you very much. But most of the first few days of the party’s remaining time I spent with Arwen in the training arena or in the infirmary with the medical texts. I needed something stimulating to occupy my time while my friends were occupied by their own duties. Frodo typically wasn’t part of the discussions as part of Elrond’s orders to rest before they leave. I’d see him strolling with his uncle or sitting in the garden with Sam, who was fascinated by all the flora in Rivendell.

_‘Good morning, little one,’_ Gaia greets as I brush my fingertips against her leaves.

          “Good morning, Gaia. Anything interesting happen last night?”

_‘Some tree mice joined our forest. Their mother is resting now and they all sleep close to her.’_ Gaia leads me through the forest to the den she speaks of. I can feel the energy around the newborns and their sleeping mother. I smile and wonder if they are anything like the mice I found in my backyard as a child.

          “They’re precious,” I tell her, aloud.

          “Who are, milady?” Sam calls from behind me.

          “Good morning, Samwise,” I turn to look at the hobbit standing awkwardly behind me, staring at his feet for giving himself away. “Gaia was showing me a den of squirrels that were born in the forest last night.”

          “Who is Guy – Gaia?” Sam stumbles around her name a moment; a typical reaction for a new word entering the vocabulary.

          “Gaia, yes,” I smile, and he beams as he overcomes the new sound in short time. “Gaia is my tree friend, here.” I brush my fingertips against the bark and feel a shiver of happiness course from her to me where my fingers connect. “She’s a very pleasant companion.”

          “She talks to you?” The look of wonder on Sam’s face as he looks at Gaia with new eyes brings to mind the look of a toddler discovering bubbles, or something as equally whimsical and mysterious, for the first time. “How?”

          “In my mind. I was quite surprised, I assure you. I’d never talked to a tree before.” I sit down and motion for the halfling to join me. He approaches cautiously before sitting beside me.

          “Are you an Elf, milady?” My head tilts of its own accord.

          “Why do you ask?”

          “Well, you move like the other Elves, you can talk to trees, and you don’t look to me like Mr. Strider does, is all.”

          “And how does Mr. Strider look to you?”

          “Well, he’s a Man, you see. Gandalf made mention that he comes from somewhere in the North, so he’ll live longer, but you don’t look like a Man.  You look more like Lady Arwen, if you don’t mind my saying so.” A blush dusts Sam’s cheek as he speaks, drawing a grin from me.

          “Why, that’s a mighty compliment Master Gamgee.” I laugh, and we sit in silence for a minute, taking in the morning sunshine while I think over his question. “I was a human in my world, and I think I’m still human here, but we’ve discovered that I have some Elf-like tendencies. Lord Elrond believes I was brought here for a reason, but no one is quite sure what that reason is, yet.”

          “You’re from a different world?”

          “Yes. Legolas found me on the Road, nearly dead, and brought me here. I’m very lucky that he did, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here now.”

          “If you don’t mind me askin’, what happened?” Sam leans in, interested in my tale; sorrow and compassion coloring the features of his kind face.

          “There are cruel people in my world, Sam, as I suspect there might be here. People who find pleasure and amusement in causing harm to others.” I lean back against Gaia’s roots and focus my attention on the scenery before me. “If you don’t mind, that’s all I really have to say on the matter for now. It’s not really something I like to think about.”

          “Of course. I don’t mean to pry. It’s lucky Master Legolas found you, then. It’d have been a shame to never have met you,” he smiles, and I wonder if he’s simply trying to lighten the mood.

          “Thank you. I’m glad I was able to meet you, too.” I return his smile and lean farther into Gaia and Sam tentatively leans back as well and we take in the coming warmth of the afternoon together for a while. The birds chirp a peaceful melody and I hum in appreciation.

 

  

          The afternoon passes, and I join Sam when he heads back inside to eat with his companions. Lunch is a merry affair as each try to out-do the other with their stories of their time spent in the Shire. Sam is more than happy to share the family trees of his companions, and I’m interested to learn that Frodo, Merry, and Pippin are related to varying degrees. Their temperaments are similar and yet, they are so distinct. Frodo shares the youth and enthusiasm of his cousins but when the jokes are gone, you can see the weight of the years in his eyes, much like I’ve seen in the Elves.

          “Will you be coming with us, Sahalie?” Frodo asks, the mood turning serious. I look at him, surprised he would ask, then to the others who all seem to look at me with hope.

          “No. This is your journey to take. Besides, I don’t know this land and you have capable companions to keep you safe. I would only be in the way.” I smile in what I hope is a comforting way.

          “But what will you do here?” Pippin looks at me with the eyes of a lost child.

          “Oh, I’ll just keep up with my training with Lord Elrond, if he doesn’t mind me hanging around all the time. And I’ve been spending some time with Lady Arwen. Of course, I’ll be anxiously awaiting your return and you can tell me all about your adventures.”

          “But –,” Pippin starts, then stops, a troubled expression coloring his expression. He seeks comfort from his companions before turning his gaze back to me. “I thought you were comin’ with us. You wouldn’t be in the way. If anyone’s in the way, it’s me. I can’t fight or heal, like Strider or Legolas. You can do both, too. Please come,” he pleads, imploring me to change my mind.

          “Pippin,” I sigh, and I can’t help but think of one of the preschoolers I used to babysit who would look at me with the same big eyes, tears threatening to spill over, heart-broken, when I wouldn’t give him something he wanted. “Pippin, I can’t. Lord Elrond has already decided who would be going with you. I will be here when you come back. I promise.” I stand up to walk around the table and pull him into a hug. He buries his face in my shoulder and holds on tight.

 

 

            Today is the day. Leaving day. I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling while the sun begins its assent, the black of the sky above the valley fading to a deep purple. Last night we had a merry feast to honor the Fellowship, their last light-hearted meal for the foreseeable future. I know that the Halflings, at least, wanted to stay up late into the evening, but Estel urged them all to bed, having travelled with them already. Merry and Pippin both look put out but from a whispered word from Gandalf and they shuffled on their way.

            A soft knock on my door pulls my attention. I sit up and call for the visitor to come in. The door opens slowly revealing Legolas in sturdy looking travel attire. I can see the edges of a fine tunic peak out from beneath the arm guards, however.

            “Did I wake you?” he asks softly. He closes the door behind himself and comes to sit on the other side of my bed.

            “No, I couldn’t sleep.” I pause. “You’re leaving today.” Legolas nods his head, bowing to look at the cloth-covered object in his hand, fingers playing with the edges. The traditional warrior braids keep his hair from falling in his face and I observe the reverence in his expression.

            “I brought this for you.” He turns to face me more fully and I find myself sitting up straighter. The cloth is smooth, like some combination of worn leather and silk. I can tell that it is meant to be sturdy, protecting whatever is inside.

            “Thank you,” I glance up and see the soft smile. I begin untying the closure and pull the edges apart to reveal a beautifully carved bow. A twisting vine with delicate leaves run the length of the longbow, adorned with Elvish runes and silver caps at the end. I pull the string lightly and listen to it sing. “Did you make this?” I ask the prince, in awe. Though I can’t detect a blush, the sheepish expression is enough to give him away. “Legolas, thank you.” I set the bow aside and crawl across the bed to wrap my arms around his neck into a tight hug. A moment later, his arms wind around my waist, squeezing me just as hard.

            We pull away soon after and I sit back on my heels, picking my bow up once more. I draw my fingers along the engravings, following the swirl of the vines with ease and fascination. “It’s made from one of Gaia’s branches.” I lift my head, wide-eyed.

            “She let you have one of her branches?” He simply nods.

            “I told her what I was planning, and she thought it might help you…feel more connected, I think.” I feel my eyes sting a little at the gesture, from both of them. I wrap my arms around him again, still holding my bow and careful not to hit him with it.

            “Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me.” We sit in silence for a while, until the sky turns from deep purple to soft pink. Then it was time for him to go.

            “ _Na lû e-govaned vîn_ ,” he murmurs, and stands.

            “Wait, I’m coming, too. I want to say good-bye to the others. Will you wait for me?”

            “I’ll just be outside.” I nod and pull clothes out of the wardrobe, pulling them on swiftly once the door is shut. I pull my boots on over my leggings and open the door. Legolas is leaning against the opposite wall, a serene expression on his face, something that would have caught me off-guard weeks ago, but I’ve since found that it’s easy for Elves to slip into a meditative state, even in times of stress. “I’m ready.”

            Legolas pushes off the wall to meet me in the middle of the corridor. The sheer curtains flutter in the wind and shine pink in the morning light. The soft lighting makes the Elven Prince look regal, even in his travel attire. I take his hand in mine as we walk, craving the last moments of contact. I reflect on how important Legolas has become to me since I arrived. It’s not the kind of hero-worship I often heard about at home – a victim is saved by someone and so they idolize them for it – no, this was something different. I respect Legolas and value the time we have spent together, learning from each other or just being. It’s something I thought I’d never find again.

            “What did that mean? What you said?” I ask as we walk.

            “ _Na lû e-govaned vîn_. The simplest translation is: “Until we next meet.” I nod, and we continue the rest of our walk in silence.

            When we reach the courtyard, everyone has gathered save for Lord Elrond and Estel. When the Hobbits spot me, their sleepy, anxious faces light up with joy. I had barely reached the bottom of the staircase before I was wrapped up in eight arms, all trying to squeeze me as hard as they could. They all speak at once, excitedly, looking from me to Legolas and back again.

            Finally, “You’re coming with us, aren’t you? You changed your mind?” Pippin cried. My heart sinks and I follow it down to be at their level.

            “Pippin, no. We talked about this. This is your journey to take. But I will be thinking about you, always.” I take his face in my hands and lay a kiss upon his brow. He reaches forward and squeezes me tighter. “I will be here when you come back.” I hear Elrond and Estel arrive in the courtyard and pull away from my new friends, reluctantly.

            “It is time,” Elrond announces, voice grave as his eyes flit to each member of the Fellowship. I stand and walk with the Hobbits to wear Gandalf stands. I give him a brief hug, nod to Boromir and Gimli and am pulled into a hug by Estel. He reminds me a lot of my foster father in his manner of affection, hidden beneath the warrior exterior. I smile at the comparison. They are both good men.

            “Take care,” I whisper, giving him one last squeeze.

            “And you.”

            When he releases me, I stand once more before the Mirkwood Elf, now bearing his quiver and long knives, bow secured. I smile sadly and wrap my arms around his waist. He lifts my head in his hands and places his forehead against mine. The feeling is so soothing that I don’t bother to think of how intimate it might look to others.

           “ _Boe i 'waen. Savo 'lass a lalaith, Sahalie. Na lû e-govaned vî,._ ” he breathes out against my skin before leaving a kiss against my brow, as he’d seen me give to Pippin moments ago.

           “ _Na lû e-govaned vîn_ ,” I whisper back. He releases me, and I step back to stand with Arwen and the twins. Within minutes, they are gone, leaving an open archway in their wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Boe i 'waen – I must go
> 
> Savo 'lass a lalaith – Have joy and laughter


End file.
